


I Pray the Lady, My Soul to Keep

by FythyrWisp



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Angelic Grace, Angelic Lore, Babysitter Sam Winchester, F/M, Gen, Hasidic Lore, Hero Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Obsessive Crowley, Original Wiccan Characters, Other, Past Domestic Violence, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:32:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FythyrWisp/pseuds/FythyrWisp
Summary: A group of dissenters from both Heaven and Hell have located an alternate pair of brothers capable of containing Michael and Lucifer, and intend to open the cage for another attempt at the apocalypse. (Rewrite, originally posted on FFN. More detail)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (A/N: Hey, everything is cool, just, uh... I NEED A BREAK FROM DIRT ROAD REJECTS SO BAD I'M REHASHING THIS CRAP!!!
> 
> Yeah, I really thought I was done with this, but if I don't do something, I'm going to keep going through DRR rereading and obsessing over details I need to fix when I eventually start fixing details, and losing my place... So, here we go, a little brain-palette cleanser. Admittedly more for me than for you, but I think I can polish this up and make it a nice little story before... Okay, fine, I admit it, I'm concerned DRR is taking over my life. Everything else I write just comes out smut right now, so, I need to remember I can manage an actual story. Also, my brain is melting.
> 
> Be warned! The chapters are short, the attitude is high, wtf was I thinking, and heartache is a big part of it. Also, Dean, wtf? You just... Psh. 
> 
> This is a completed fic, though, so it shouldn't be too long between chapters, maybe a couple days. If I give up, you can always find the drivel version on FFN.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FythyrWisp)

* * *

"The flu? Are you kidding me?" Dean spoke loudly into the phone, his voice competing with the roar of the engine as he drove, "All the stuff that slows us down, and you're laid up with the flu? Get Cas to mojo you, and get ready."

"I'll be fine," Sam's voice came back. He'd stayed at the bunker to research for Garth while Dean had been on a routine ghost hunt, a basic salt-and-burn for a haunting in Georgia, "But Cas took off yesterday morning, and he was in a big hurry about it, too. I wasn't going to call him for this, but you might want to check in with him in case he needs anything, I think he was headed south. It'll keep you from catching this. Believe me, you don't want it."

"Yeah, okay," Dean answered, "Listen, I'm stopping in Texas next. A bunch of kids went missing, not the party type, but the real straight-A geeks kind, I'm gonna start checking it out, so if this turns out to be just a stomach bug, head my way, I might need a hand."

"I'll let you know, in the meantime, I'm going to get some sleep and run us out of chicken noodle," Sam replied, getting off the phone in a hurry.

"Poor guy... Like a week-long hangover..." Dean muttered, glancing at his phone repeatedly to pull up Castiel's number and press the call button, waiting for his friend to answer, "Hey, Cas. Sam came down with the flu, and looks like we have a case in Texas, any chance you can fix him up and get him down here?"

When the angel's voice came back, Dean was sure he heard an exasperated tone, "I'm sorry Dean, I have a pressing matter to attend to. Unless there is an emergency, I won't be able to leave just yet... Wait, where in Texas?"

"You know what? It's probably nothing. Just check on Sam for me if you can make it back to the bunker before I do."

* * *

"Of course." Castiel answered. Lowering the phone and pressing a button to end the call, he turned his attention back to the woman at the table.

She was roughly thirty, and small in stature. Her face was blotchy, pale, and streaked with tears, chestnut hair in a hasty ponytail, and before her, tarot cards were strewn across the table in no apparent order.

"Melissa," Castiel started gently, "Would you be able to shift the focus of the approaching danger to yourself, and then send them to their father, or some other safe location?"

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to do that," she said weakly, between what was left of sobs that had been shaking her entire frame a short time prior, "And if you try to help me, well, you're still not strong enough... We could both get hurt, then no one will be able to protect them."

Castiel carefully sank to a second chair at the small table, "It seems we're running low on options, but I promise you, those options do exist, and there are... More people who would help, people who know about the existence of this sort of danger. Good people."

"What, hunters?" Melissa scoffed, shaking her head, "I've never seen any good come from anything involving hunters."

Castiel shrugged, "I could argue that you exist."

Melissa cringed, fighting back the tears that threatened a fresh wave, "I won't call him."

"I won't ask you to," Castiel promised, "But please, don't rule out the possibility of trusting others."

* * *

At the bunker, after an obscenely long nap, Sam felt as though he might be up for another round of the game 'will it stay down,' and headed to the kitchen. Crackers seemed like a safe choice, and he wandered back out to the library to find something, anything, to read. He had spent the previous day binge-watching, and it felt as though his I.Q. were melting. Dean had left a few books out on one of the tables, and Sam was running out of energy to continue standing. He was sure he'd find something in them as he sank into a chair.

Gods and Goddesses of India, Djinns, Mythical Creatures of North America, and oddly enough, John Winchester's journal. He picked up the journal and realized he hadn't seen it in a while. He assumed Dean was keeping it around, somewhere safe, but it had become far less relevant since discovering the wealth of knowledge easily available thanks to the Men of Letters. His father's hastily scratched notes in time stolen between hunting, driving, and getting stone cold drunk paled in comparison to the volumes he now used for research, and a mere drop in the pond of what he already knew.

Sam acknowledged that it was probably just his fever, but for now, he felt a small twinge of nostalgic guilt, wondering about his father as he turned the leatherbound journal over in his hands, the cover as familiar to him as the car he'd grown up in. He considered the things he'd much rather have known, the sort of things normally written in journals, and wished his father had had the time and inclination to write them down.

He felt a flutter of old grief creep up within him. They never got along, and there had been plenty of times when Sam wondered if his father had even loved him, but what besides his obsession over Mary's death, had made him tick? And had he left any hint toward that in his writing? Possibly something Sam had never noticed before?

Sam pulled the journal to him, rested his head in his hand, and began to flip through it, only half paying attention, sticking the occasional cracker in his mouth and sipping some water as he paged through the small book.

He came to a familiar photograph of a blond woman with short hair, a firm expression, and toned muscles. Dean had described Tara to Sam after meeting her as 'tough as nails, and kind of like a cougary Sarah Connor.'

Sam removed the loose photograph and flipped it over. Scrawled in black pen across the top was Tara's name and a year, 1985. For some reason, their meeting seemed further in the past than he would have guessed. He moved to put it back but noticed more writing on the bottom of the tiny photo, mostly covered by his thumb. He set it down on the page to look more closely.

He mumbled around the cracker he was chewing, "Calls her... hm... smudged really bad..."

His energy was almost gone. He decided to close the crackers and leave them on the table rather than trek back into the kitchen, which in his weakened, fevered state seemed a rather large and unnecessary chore.

Sam returned the photo to the page and closed the journal, finished his water, and headed back to his bed.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Yeah, I said a couple of days, whatever, headstart.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING! *** Mention of past spousal abuse, mild past-abuse reaction, and brief imagery involving dead children.
> 
> Robertsville is not a real place, it is very much based on a real place. 
> 
> Y'all are awesome. Even with zero views on the first chapter, yes, you, future reader. Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

_One step at a time,_ Melissa reminded herself as she woke from a fitful sleep. She had dealt with panic and fear before, but her abusers had been tangible. Her ex-husband had been horrible to her, and she had spent over a year in therapy, but this was a far different situation.

She could feel the danger approaching her children.

Castiel had promised her she had time, but she wasn't sure she believed him. He had left her the night before, something about research and friends. Through her tearstained memories, she recalled a comment about people he trusted, who she would be able to trust as well. But he'd also said they were hunters.

 _One step at a time. Plod through it until you're on the other side. Cast a field of protection over them, and take them to school._ She didn't have the courage to let them stray far and went in to volunteer, shelving books in the elementary school library. She did it on Thursdays anyway, so she made the excuse of having too much time on her hands. Eventually, she took a break to have lunch with her kindergartener. She stopped by the art teacher's room to see if he had anything she could work on. A stack of paper was passed to her, and off she went to the slicer in the workroom. Her earbuds in, trying to drown her worries in Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and in the middle of Wildflowers, she froze.

Her children... their faces pale, expressionless, bloodied, and gazing up at an empty, harshly bright sky. The tall grass in the field, blown by the wind, waved the few sparely growing wildflowers on long thin stems just above them.

She started, someone's hand on her shoulder. It was the first-grade teacher her older child had had a year ago, "Melissa? You're shaking, are you ok?"

Melissa smiled with the same mask she'd used to fool her neighbors years before, silently fighting her nausea. The weight of a thousand worlds might have been less painful.

"Sorry, it's just a really sad song..." she popped an earbud out, "Do you happen to know what day they moved the PTA meeting to?" she deflected. She never went to the meetings, but any answer requiring thought would be perfect to derail Mrs. Camden's worries.

"Thursday, I think, but you might want to check in with the office because I'm really not sure."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll find out. Thanks anyway, it was good to see you!" Melissa gathered up the papers she had cut, and the ones she hadn't, and hightailed it to the art room. She kicked herself for the behaviors she recognized as what should have been the long-dead survival instincts of a formerly battered woman.

Thankful the art teacher wasn't around, she finished the few papers she had left with scissors, and went out to the parking lot. There was only an hour left of school, she could sit in her minivan for that long.

* * *

Dean arrived in Robertsville, Texas, and went straight to work. The police station, the sheriff's office, even asking the local newspaper if they had any details that they had left out of their articles.

The kids had all been students, one middle schooler, three high schoolers, and two freshmen from the local college. Past that, he was stuck. He started to regret not waiting on Sam for this one, but then, kids were going missing. That wasn't something he could just sit around and watch happen, he knew any further disappearances would be his fault.

He walked into the coffee shop adjacent to the college campus. He had contacted a roommate of one of the missing college students, and had his fingers crossed that something relevant would come up. He got a coffee and sat down in a corner, attempting to give off an obvious fed-vibe as he kept an eye on the door.

Not much later, two young ladies came in, a slender blonde cheerleader type in shorts, a tank top and flip-flops, the other, covered in modest but lightweight fabrics wrist to ankle, and wearing a hijab. The two chatted in a friendly manner, and placed an order. The blonde came over to his table as the other girl waited for the coffees. "Would you happen to be Agent Lee?"

Dean looked up, pretending not to have noticed her before. "Yes, are you Lita?"

"No," she said, taking a seat at his table, "Lita's getting our drinks. I'm Charlotte," she said, offering her hand over the table.

Dean set his coffee down and shook it, "Nice to meet you, Charlotte."

Lita came over with two cups, placing one in front of Charlotte as she sat down. "Agent Lee, I hope you don't mind that I asked Charlotte to come with me."

"Absolutely not." Dean tried to tone down his usual go-to level of charm. "I'm here to try to find out what happened to Mattie, the last thing I'd want to do is make either of you uncomfortable. And it's smart, y'know," he shrugged, "Buddy system, and all. Can't be too careful with people going missing like this. So, did Mattie say where she was headed the evening she disappeared?"

"She was going to get some things from the corner store on Oak Street. She didn't say what she was going to pick up, and she said she would text me if she was coming back late." Lita glanced at Charlotte, "I kept waking up to check my phone, but if she sent a message, I didn't get it."

Lita's reaction of confusion and fear seemed genuine. Dean had seen plenty of liars and people ridden with guilt who clearly deserved it, but he was certain Lita was just worried about her friend.

"Is there anyone else you think I should ask about Mattie?" Dean tried his best to imitate Sam's sympathetic probing.

"She didn't have any boyfriends, or any stalkers, if that's what you mean. That's what the police asked me." Lita seemed a little nervous.

"How about, off the record? Anyone I might want to check in to, just in case? No one has to know."

Lita became very quiet for several moments, refusing to look at him directly.

Charlotte wasn't oblivious to the tension. "I'm going to get us a couple of those cinnamon cookies, is that ok?" she asked, putting her hand on Lita's shoulder. Lita answered with a nod.

Dean took a pen out of his pocket, set it on a clean napkin, and slid it to the middle of the table. Lita looked at it for a moment, then shot a quick glance over her shoulder to where Charlotte was standing in line at the counter.

Dean never considered himself to be the most culturally sensitive person, and he would freely admit he wasn't familiar with Muslim social constructs, but he did hope Lita felt safe enough sitting at the table with him, out of earshot of her friend. He was a little grateful that Charlotte had chosen to sit directly across from him, leaving Lita to take the opposite corner, increasing the distance between them.

Charlotte began to speak to the barista, and in a quick motion, Lita snatched the pen and napkin, scribbling something down in a hurry. Dean tried to pretend he didn't notice, as she wrapped the napkin around the pen and flipped it across the table, where it slid less than gracefully in front of Dean before slipping off the edge, landing in his lap.

Charlotte turned and began walking back to the table just as Dean pocketed the odd bundle. She sat down and passed a cookie to Lita, who was still avoiding Dean's eyes. "You know, Lita, I completely forgot, but wasn't Mattie going to those meetings with you, at the U.U.?"

Lita looked up, as if she hadn't considered it before.

Dean looked between the two of them. "What's a you-you?"

Charlotte turned to Dean, "Unitarian Universalist, it's a denomination of church, but they're open to all people regardless of beliefs or lifestyles. Jesus is optional. Nobody tells you you're going to hell, I'm pretty sure most of them don't believe in one."

"No hell, huh?" Oh, what he wouldn't give for that to be true.

"They're very accepting," Lita said, "The minister there helped me find a mosque that was a better fit for me than the services held on campus."

Dean looked her in the eye, "That is awesome. You ask me, that's how things should go... But what about these meetings Mattie was going to? What were those about?"

"They weren't like a spiritual service or class, it was more like a freshman support group, a way to make friends, learn about local resources, most of us are away from home for the first time, and it can be very stressful. The church is right across the street from campus, so you don't have to drive, and it's run by people who've lived in the area for a long time, and know where everything is. We meet just after their youth services, but we didn't meet last week, the person who runs the group was out sick."

Dean mulled it over. "Was Robbie Card going to these meetings, too?"

"I haven't been here long enough to get to know everyone. He might have been there, but I can't be sure." Lita said.

"I'm pretty sure he came a few times, earlier in the year, he stopped going before Mattie and Lita started," Charlotte spoke up. "But I thought he dropped out and went home?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

* * *

"Sam, is Cas back yet?"

Sam sat up slowly, keeping the phone to his ear, "Not yet... I think... I didn't hear anyone come in, I guess I'll check..."

"I'm running out of ideas here, Sam. There's got to be a pattern and I'm not seeing it. The two college kids were going to a college freshmen support group or something at some church, but that doesn't explain the high schoolers and the middle school kid."

"Did you check if the younger kids were involved in the same church? Maybe the youth ministry?" Sam suggested, slowly walking the halls of the bunker.

"That's a good idea, Sam. Can you check if this place has a website and see if they mention these kids anywhere online?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting down at the laptop he'd left on the kitchen table while trying to make himself eat breakfast that morning. "What's the name of it?"

"No idea, but it's in Robertsville, across the street from the college," Dean said, getting out of the Impala and fumbling to open the door of his motel room.

"There are two churches."

"What?" Dean closed the door, shouldering his phone.

"There are two churches on the same block. Getsemani Baptist Church, and Robertsville Unitarian Universalist Congregation."

"Yeah, the uh, the not-Baptist one."

Sam shook his head. "Okay... the not-Baptist one. Looks like they've got two youth groups, the middle schoolers meet Wednesday, then the high schoolers meet Thursdays, immediately followed by that college program."

"Can you find anything about the kids I'm looking for?"

"They don't exactly have a team roster, Dean. Internet privacy and all that."

"All right, call me back if you find anything. Oh, and are you feeling any better?"

Sam chuckled, "I'll live. If Cas is driving straight through, he should be along in a few hours. You want me to fill him in?"

"Sure, see if he can make heads or tails of these U.U.s. Take care, Sammy." Dean said, hanging up.

Sam looked at his phone screen curiously, "You-yous?"

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Omg, it's like a spa day for my brain, just re-editing the story and throwing the chapters up. Wonderful. Also de-stressed me enough to make some serious headway on the next Stained and Ashamed chapter. Booyah!
> 
> Thakns for reading! FW)

* * *

Castiel walked down the stairs into the bunker carrying a plastic grocery bag.

"Hey, Cas." Sam greeted him with a little more strength than he had had during their previous phone call, but stayed where he was, half-slumped in a chair at one of the tables in the library.

"Sam, how are you feeling?" Castiel asked, looking him over. Sam was grayish and bedraggled, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were red, although he had managed to get into the shower and put on fresh clothes.

"Just awful, but I think I'm over the worst of it." Sam replied, sitting up a bit.

"Yes, you seem to be healing quickly enough. I brought the tomato soup you asked for, and the sour worms candy. Is it common for children to want to ingest insects? Perhaps their parents use the candy as an alternative to live bugs." Castiel asked as he pulled the small container from the bag and examined it before setting it on the table with the grocery bag.

"I don't know, Cas. I just know sour stuff helps most people not to throw up."

Sam pushed his laptop over to where Cas had sat down. "Here, this is what Dean is working on, now. There's this little college town in Texas, seven students have gone missing, two from the college, the rest are minors, one is particularly young. The two college students were both going to some kind of support group meetings at this church. Dean is trying to find out if any of the others were involved there."

The laptop was open to a page involving the congregation's children and teen programs. A picture of several happy children and a few adults lined the top of the page. Castiel's expression changed immediately as he recognized a face.

"This is where Dean is investigating right now?" Castiel demanded with a quiet urgency.

"Yeah, he was headed there next, he's trying to find out if whatever is taking the kids is linked to the church. Is he in danger?"

"Probably not. But I'm wondering if others won't be in danger from him."

Sam searched Castiel's face, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"There are some things I haven't told you, Sam. I haven't told Dean these things either. I thought it was best- or, well, not my place to tell anyone, but now, I'm not certain."

"Okay... maybe start at the beginning?"

"Did you ever wonder how I was able to find Adam so easily when he was being held by angels?"

Sam took a deep breath. To open with such a painful subject, this could not be an easy talk he was in for.

* * *

After stashing the Impala a block away, Dean stood quietly behind a small house that had been re-purposed for a church nursery and Sunday School building, partially hidden by tall trash and recycling cans, low branches, and shadows. He watched the parking lot and the main building. He checked his watch, finding it was roughly twenty minutes until the middle school group began their meeting, but the small main building appeared to be deserted.

He could see a side door to the main building off to his left, it was out of sight of the parking lot but looked like it went directly into the sanctuary of the church.

A light blue minivan pulled into the parking lot, and as it took a parking space Dean could see a bumper sticker. "Do Good Things."

A woman got out of the van, looking around. It was a fairly secluded area, with several trees and tall fences blocking the view of most of the neighboring homes, and Dean was good at not being seen, so it was clear she assumed she was alone and unobserved. She set her large denim purse on the driver's seat and opened it. When she stepped back, she was holding a knife A small, jeweled dagger, with a flowing ripple along one edge. Dean's defenses were on edge, he was certain this was not something you'd see any average soccer mom doing.

"No. No, don't do that." Dean muttered to himself.

She turned, facing in different directions for a few moments, then knelt on the pavement next to the open door of the van, holding the knife on her lap in a passive way. Her back was to him now, and her head was down, one hand to her face.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean whispered, "Hiding in plain sight, too."

Slowly, she rose, brushed off her jeans, and put the knife back into her purse. She closed the driver's side door and walked around to the other side of the vehicle.

Dean bolted for the side door of the main building, his lock picks out by the time he got there.

* * *

"Okay my munchkins, it's Wednesday night, you're going to your dad's house. Anything you want to take with you?" Melissa asked, as her two boys piled into her minivan with their backpacks and lunch boxes.

"I want to take my sheep!" the oldest spoke up.

"Nope. That thing is as big as a house, it won't work. What about your bears?"

"I really want my sheep, mom."

"Dylan, if it won't fit in your backpack, it stays home. You know the rule."

"Fine. Then I want my lobster." Dylan huffed.

The younger chirped, "I don't want stuffed animals anymore. I want a pet chicken."

The kids continued to chat about their days, and what video games to play with their father that evening.

Home, snacks, packing a change of clothes, it all flew by so fast, a blanket of panic just behind her mind the entire time.

She finally collected her thoughts when it was almost time to leave, taking an unlabeled jar off a high shelf.

"Come here, you guys have been out in the sun too much this week, you need some lotion."

"I don't!" whichever said it first was soon echoed by the other.

"Yeah, you do."

"But that one smells weird."

The lotion was regular store-bought cheap stuff, but the extra ingredients she put in the jar to steep was the real reason for her insistence. What better way to weave a protective barrier than directly in the skin of those you want to protect? She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

"Deal with it, kidlets. Mom makes the rules for a reason."

Arms and faces, good enough. Extra hugs getting into the van. Ten minutes later, she watched the two halves of her heart scramble up the lawn, pressed the button to close the sliding door, and gave her ex-husband their customary 'got it from here' wave through the passenger window.

She checked to make sure she had her curriculum printouts and take-home copies with her, and swung into the local pizza place to pick up the standing order.

The anxiety she had been feeling all day was growing heavy in the back of her mind. She sat in the parking lot, the smell of the pizzas filling up the van, but all she could feel was a tightening in her chest and throat. Every time she blinked, there were visions of blood.

She was scared. She was on her last nerve. Maybe she was having a mental breakdown. But that couldn't be true, because Castiel had assured her, this was very much real.

She took a deep breath, and pulled out her phone. She didn't want to do this. Every inch of her skin crawled just thinking about it. But what other options did she have?

Melissa recalled their last conversation. She had written down every word, every feeling ten times over, tears falling on the pages, before she had taken the stack of paper outside and burned it.

There was so much pain there. But deep in the recesses of her oldest email account, she still had his number.

Tears slipped down her face as she dialed.

Voice mail... His voice. It churned her stomach to hear the deep, gravelly tone, and she was blocking it out too much to catch whatever useless drivel he'd added as a greeting.

Anything to protect her children. Anything. Even this...

"I know you said not to call. But I need help. Something is coming, something... more powerful than anything I've ever seen. I'm desperate. Please, Daddy, it's coming for your grandchildren, and I don't know how much longer I can keep them safe." Her voice broke into sobs. "I'm sorry. I really hope you understand, I just need help for them, if you don't want to see me after that, it's fine, but please come help me."

Her hands were shaking as she ended the call, wiping her eyes roughly, and digging into the center console for old take out napkins to dry her face. Her responsibilities wouldn't wait. She had places to be, a meeting to prepare for, and people who were counting on her to arrive early, stay late, and pull through.

She scrubbed at her face to try to hide the tears, and got back on the road.

She couldn't face the class like this, she needed to calm down. Bringing this anxious energy in with her would throw everything off.

She parked her van, retrieved her athame from her purse, checking to make sure she wouldn't freak out any of the more conservative neighbors living around the church, and proceeded to call the corners. She knelt, going by her own instincts, doing what she needed to ground herself, in this case, making actual contact with the earth.

She sought calm, clarity, and safety for her children. Nothing more than a prayer of her own making.

Melissa rose, felt better almost instantly, and began to gather her things before heading inside.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Ug, why is it so hard for me to add bits into this? Jeez! I need to do better, tbh.
> 
> TRIGGER: Gun Violence! Attempted kidnapping! But, hey, you watch Supernatural, so, y'know, small potatoes. Sure beats the whole 'Close your eyes, Sam' scene *omg, so beautifully painful*
> 
> Anyway, back to the drivel, booyah! Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Castiel's serious, but collected demeanor went out the window like a shot. He nearly doubled over where he sat, his face strained and his breathing ragged.

"Cas! What's happening?" Sam reached for his shoulder in case he fell.

"She's calling for me. He found her, he thinks she's doing this. I have to go."

"I'll go with you." Sam stood up as Castiel did.

"If I take you with me, I will become very weak. You may need to stop Dean on your own, or at least delay him until I recover."

Sam nodded,"I'll probably have an easier time making him see sense than you will."

Castiel, still seemingly in pain, pointed to the table. "Get your father's journal."

Sam grabbed it as Castiel reached toward Sam's forehead.

* * *

Dean slipped through the side door of the church as silently as possible. He could see through the wide, low archway on the other side of the sanctuary that there was a hallway leading to the door near where the woman had parked her van, and assumed she'd be coming through it shortly.

He scrambled to take cover as close as possible to the archway to wait. His back hit the wall as he pulled his gun close to his chest and catching a quick breath just before as he heard her key in the predicted lock.

In the otherwise absolute silence, the creak of the door and the sound of her footsteps were finely detailed in his ears through the echo of the hardwood floored building.

What he was going to do with the witch after he dragged her out of here, he had no idea. He'd have to figure that out later. Once again, he wished Sam was with him.

Melissa juggled her heavy purse, two large binders, and a small stack of loose papers as she passed through the archway, headed to a nearby table at the back of the small and very modern sanctuary. Tall, narrow windows lined opposing walls, but the shades were drawn, and with the lights off it may as well have been dusk.

Dean silently took two large steps to come up directly behind her as she walked, reaching out with his left hand to take hold of her, clamping it over her mouth, bringing the gun to just behind her right ear. At the same time, she panicked, dropped everything she carried, and her hands flew to struggle against his arm as the back of her head hit his chest.

In her efforts to force him to release her, she managed to spin them both closer to the middle of the empty space in the back of the sanctuary, then attempted to drop out of his grip through dead weight.

"Stop! Stop it, right now!" Dean demanded, leaning over to keep her mouth clamped shut as she fell to kneeling on the floor.

She froze. He could feel tears running down the back of his fingers and his palm.

"Waterworks aren't going to work on me, bitch. I know exactly what you are. One little peep of a hex out of you, your brains are on the floor, understand?"

Melissa nodded.

Dean pressed the barrel against her head a bit more firmly as his hand left her mouth.

"Please... I'll make a deal with you..." she said, her voice carrying a hint of a whimper, but trying to stay in control of herself. Dean scoffed. He'd made deals with things much more frightening than her. "There's a door behind you. I haven't seen your face. You have a chance to walk away."

"What?" Dean was genuinely confused by this. Not by what she was saying, so much as her tone. This wasn't the typical talk of the average no-good creature he normally hunted, but combined with the fear, he heard something else in her voice. It struck him as some sort of precursor of forgiveness. The combination of the three had him startled.

"I won't move, I swear... You haven't hurt anyone, you can just walk away from this, fix your life... please, just don't hurt me. I have two little boys, they need their mom... And the kids coming for the youth group meeting will be here in a few minutes, if they find me dead here, it'll scar them for life."

Dean considered her last statement. More people, kids, mostly, were on their way. He needed to move, "Don't worry about that, I don't think I'm done with you."

Dean put his forearm across the front of her shoulders, her hands still on his wrist, and dragged her up to stand. He moved his hand to her throat. "Where are your keys?"

She pointed to her purse which had dropped close by.

"Pick it up, we're going for a drive." Dean's voice rasped in her ear.

She hesitated.

"Look, I'm not going to wait all day. I know those two college kids who disappeared were coming here, and with four more missing, after your little mojo dance in the parking lot, I'll be damned if I'm going to wait around for you to take another one. What is it, human sacrifice? Or you got them tied up somewhere?"

Melissa was shaking. "I don't know what you mean."

"Just pick it up," he growled, pressing the barrel of the gun harder into her skull.

She took a deep, shaking breath, and leaned as though she was complying, but instead, she screamed.

The sound of the scream wasn't what surprised him. The shock came from the very familiar name.

"CASTIEL!" Dean clamped his hand over her mouth once again dragging her head backward into his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed. "How do you know Cas?"

Obviously, she wouldn't have been able to answer with his hand over her mouth, but she had screamed with such force that once again, he was partially holding her weight to keep her off the floor and easily in his control.

With a rush of wind and a rustling on the air, Castiel appeared with Sam at his side. About half a second later, Sam was catching Castiel and lowering him to the floor. Sam didn't look to be in much better shape.

"Dean, don't hurt her. Let her go." Sam said, turning back to them as quickly as he could.

"She's a witch, Sam! She's doing weird shit in the parking lot, coming in here, pretending to be some innocent Sunday School teacher, and these kids are going missing. I don't have to draw you a picture." He still had the gun to her head. Her shaking had grown worse, her eyes glazed over, shutting out the trauma, her face had gone a sickly yellow color. Dean, standing behind her, couldn't see it.

"Dean, she's not a witch, she's a Wiccan."

"Then why is she teaching kids in a church?"

"Because this church is cool with that."

Dean shot Sam a puzzled look before he looked down at Melissa, leaning over her to see her face. "Why is this church cool with that?"

Melissa rolled her eyes and pointed. Dean's gaze followed her directive. Behind the dias on the wall, where in most churches there would be a cross or crucifix on prominent display, there were instead several small, but ornate symbols depicting the various world religions, all arranged in a circle around another symbol, two overlapped circles surrounding a chalice holding a flame.

"Dean, let her go. Cas knows her, she's not hurting anyone." Sam insisted.

Castiel began to attempt to move.

Dean shrugged, "I don't know, she might know something, or she might be playing Cas."

"Dean..." Castiel gasped weakly from the floor. He started to get up, Sam helped him to his feet.

"You can't hurt her, she's a Lamed Vavnik," Castiel said quietly.

"So, what, you need something special to gank one?"

As Dean spoke, Melissa's eyes widened, she shook harder, and went limp.

"Good job, Dean," Sam dropped next to her to check that she was still breathing, as Dean moved to lay her on the floor, "you scared her so much she passed out."

Castiel wobbled on his feet as he spoke again. "She didn't faint because of Dean... She knows what she is now, and she was overwhelmed. It's a common reaction."

The door down the hallway creaked open. Dean put his gun away immediately and drew back from the woman on the floor. In the dim room, the gangly teenager didn't seem to notice the strangers right away.

"Melissa? Oh my God, Melissa! Are you okay? Steven, get in here!"

The young man looked up, noticing Dean first. "What happened?"

"She passed out, her papers just went all over the place." Dean started to pick up some of the dropped items. The door creaked once again.

"Hey Mike, Melissa left her car door open, so I brought the pizzas in. I shut it but it's not lock- Woah! What happened?"

"I'm calling an ambulance, probably shouldn't move her," Sam spoke up, his phone to his ear. "Is there someone else who can take over for her?"

"Yeah, the minister's wife, Nancy. I'll call her." Steven said, setting the pizzas down and fetching his own phone.

Castiel had moved further to the front of the sanctuary, away from the conversation.

Mike walked to the wall and began flipping switches and lighting the sanctuary quickly. He turned back to Dean. "So, I take it you know Melissa?"

"Yes," Dean spoke a little too quickly. Sam was giving him major bitchface as he gave the name of the church to the emergency services dispatcher on the other end of the call, "Yes, we know Melissa, that's why we're here. See, she was worried about these kids going missing, all students, and asked us to look into it." Dean pulled out a fake P.I. badge and showed it to the boy, "Would you know anything about it?"

"Just that one kid from my class went missing, and two kids from his brother's high school," he gestured to Steven. "Some of the kids said it was Katy Easton's ghost. She died when a train hit her on a bridge, but, I mean, obviously that's crap."

Sirens became audible in the parking lot. Mike ran to the door, and Dean continued to pick up papers and the binders Melissa had dropped.

Dean glanced at her a couple of times as he worked. Castiel had said it wasn't his fault, but he still had questions.

After a few minutes, the replacement teacher had arrived, Castiel had come back to the back of the room, and Sam was speaking to a paramedic...

"And how do we get in touch with her family?" the paramedic was taking notes.

Castiel interrupted Sam. That was very out of character, and got Dean's attention. "You'll find Rich Faulkner, her adoptive father, in her records as her emergency contact, he passed away six months ago. These two men are her brothers."

Dean looked at Sam, who didn't immediately look up from Melissa. "Is that right?" the paramedic asked Sam. Sam nodded absentmindedly.

Even as a cover story, which admittedly, Castiel was getting better at, that should have elicited some response from Sam.

* * *

They stood in the parking lot of the church watching the ambulance pull away.

Dean had brought the Impala around. They were about to follow it over to the hospital, but after climbing in, Dean sat with the key in his hand, looking at the blue minivan.

Dean broke the silence. "If either one of you want to fill me in on any of this, I'm all ears. Cas, what did you say she was?"

"A Lamed Vavnik. One of the thirty-six hidden saints, whose selfless acts of kindness keep the world in order."

"And you know her, how?" Dean demanded, turning around in his seat.

Castiel looked him in the eye, obviously unhappy with his behavior of late, "Before I pulled you out of Hell, in the literal sense, I helped her escape a more figurative hell. The rest of that isn't really any of your business."

"So, what, you have to play guardian angel to this chick?"

"I choose to. For every living Winchester, anyway."

"Dean, can we just head to the hospital now, before she wakes up and someone asks if she wants to press charges?" Sam interjected.

"Hey, you're not off the hook either. You just show up out of nowhere with Cas, carrying dad's journal around. When's the last time you needed it for anything? And since when do you not want to talk things out?"

"Later, Dean."

"Fine," Dean started the engine and headed to the hospital, "You have your phone, check on a railroad accident that happened around here, and the name Katy Easton, sounds like an urban legend. Might be a lead."

* * *

Pulling into the hospital parking garage, Dean noticed Castiel was unconscious again in the back seat. Zapping himself and Sam to Texas had clearly drained him.

Sam had found an old news article in the online archives for the college's newspaper with more details on Katherine Easton. "She and three friends had crossed this railroad bridge north of the college for a picnic on the other side of the river because Katy's 19th birthday was the next day, but that was a Monday, so they'd be in class. They saw the northbound 2 o'clock train run, so they thought they had an hour before the 3 o'clock southbound train ran on the same tracks. None of them had a watch, didn't know the first train was about 45 minutes late, and they were still on the bridge when the southbound train came through. They all ran, but Katy was struck by the train, and killed instantly."

"That sucks. When did that happen?"

"The 1930s."

"No, I mean was it around this time of year?"

"Yeah, this week."

"So there could be a connection."

Dean turned around after shutting off the engine, eyeing Castiel in the back, "Should we wake him up?"

"Hey, Cas?" Sam asked softly, Castiel only opened his eyes in response, "Do you want to wait out here, or you want to come in?"

"It might be best if I stay here. But she'll also be recovering from a major shock. Please try not to upset her." Castiel said, closing his eyes again.

Both Sam and Dean lowered the windows, and Dean double checked the sun wouldn't hit the car any time soon, then they started for the stairs.

After a very silent walk in, broken only by a stop at the front desk, the two were settled into a small waiting room. Not long after, a nurse popped in to find Dean sitting on a couch as Sam stared out a window, "Are you here for Ms. Faulkner?"

"Yes." Dean stood up quickly.

"They said she had her brother with her, so, one of you is Chase Faulkner, her next-of-kin?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam replied, giving a small hand wave to indicate himself, carefully avoiding any sort of direct lie.

"She's doing fine, she hasn't woken up yet, but her medical records are already in our system so it was easy to find out everything we'd normally need to ask about. But just in case we missed anything, we may run some questions by you in a little while. You can see her now, though, I'll take you back."

Following the nurse, Sam asked "Any idea what happened? She just kind of, y'know, fell over out of nowhere."

Dean looked at Sam, who returned yet another bitchface.

"It was likely a side effect of her heart medication, but it's not uncommon for stress to trigger an anxiety attack, and she has been treated for those here before. Has she been under a lot of stress lately?"

"Well, we don't live around here, so it's been a while, but today, at least, yeah. You could say that." Dean was not going to look... not looking, nope.. he looked. Yep, drowning in bitchface.

Finally at her door, the nurse left them to go back to her station. Sam hissed at Dean, "Why didn't you back off when I told you to!?"

"She could've run! How am I supposed to know Stevie Nicks in there isn't some kind of baby-eating she-devil?"

"You're supposed to trust me and Cas!"

"Cas said this wasn't on me, so shut it!"

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They slipped into the room quietly. Dean watched Sam's reaction. Something was off. Really off, "So what did Cas say about her?"

"A lot. Some stuff, he wouldn't tell me, and then there's some stuff she doesn't know, yet," Sam said softly, taking a seat near the bed.

"Like what?"

Melissa's head rolled over to one side.

"I think she's waking up..."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: So, y'all, Lamed Vavniks, not a critter of my own creation, it's a thing. I got deep into the lore on this before ever considering any kind of link to SPN. Thought it was the coolest thing ever, honestly. I draw on the actual lore heavily, even acknowledging the parts I claim to be false in the story, nerding out over it so hard. Really. They're also called Tzadikim Nistarim, that being plural for the group, and it looks there are other combinations of the words, and a very rough [forgive me!] translation would look like Lamed = Thirty, Vav = Six, 'nik = person of the, and Tzadik = Holy/Righteous man, Nistar = Hidden ones.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Melissa opened her eyes for a brief moment before closing them again against the blur. She was vaguely aware of other people in the room. It smelled like a hospital.

"Hey... you coming around?" a male voice spoke gently from close by. Must be a nurse.

"... My kids? ...'ere my kids?" she slurred, worry dripping from her weary fuss.

"They weren't with you. Can you tell me their names?"

"Dylan, an' Johnny... Are they okay?"

She kept trying to fight her way out of the fog and regain consciousness completely. All her body wanted to do was sleep, but she wasn't about to allow it.

"Did you leave them with a babysitter, maybe a family member? Somewhere safe?"

Safe... keep them safe. _Send them to their father, draw the danger to yourself..._ Maybe Castiel had done this.

"They're with their father. My ex-husband."

"Are they safe there, with him?"

She would have shuddered at her memories, if only she had had the energy to do so. "They're okay. He only hit me... Judge said he could still see them, and he straightened out."

Dean had been looking at the chart hanging at the foot of the bed, but at this he looked up. Realization struck him that not only had he attacked and tried to kidnap a saint, he attacked a saint with a heart condition who had recently enough been a battered woman, who had asked him not to hurt her for the sake of her kids. He muttered under his breath, "Oh, I'm running out of ways to fuck this up."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who shook his head grimly and went back to looking at the chart.

"I understand your father passed away recently. Seeing as you're in the hospital, do you have any family you'd like us to contact?" Sam continued.

"My brother lives in Birmingham. I'll call him in a bit." She tried to open her eyes again. She almost made out a face that time. She rubbed at her own face, and made a flustered attempt to sit up, "So, what happened? Was it a car accident?"

"No," Sam said, "No, you just had a really rough day, I guess. You got some news you weren't expecting."

Her voice was becoming clearer. Dean hung the chart back on the end of the bed. Any time now, she'd be completely awake, and that made him nervous.

"I'm going to check on Cas," he whispered on his way to the door.

* * *

It was starting to get dark out, the street lights were coming on, lighting up against the many-hued sky, preparing to drown out the stars out with harsh, ugly yellow, but provide a well-lit path, as were the dim lights inside the parking garage.

He could see Castiel's head resting on the seat back as he approached the Impala. He dropped into the driver's seat out of habit, "Hey, Cas. You have a nice nap?"

"I am feeling a little more rested than before," the angel actually raised his head this time.

"Your little friend is waking up. Sam's talking to her now, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to be there when she came out of it," Dean admitted.

Castiel nodded. His breathing was a bit ragged.

"So, what did you tell Sam about this girl? Because he's not exactly in a sharing mood."

"All you need to know at this time is that a Lamed Vavnik, one of these holy human beings, is capable of producing grace in an unstable form. When she's centered, when she's focused, she can assist me in healing myself, as she's done before. She's currently in some trouble, and your actions today have not helped things. Now please take your father's journal from the glove compartment and bring it to Sam. I have a feeling he'll be needing it shortly... Very shortly." His breathing became more ragged, and he clutched at his sternum.

Dean watched his movements, "What's happening to you?" he asked, looking over the back of the seat.

"She's agitated. I'm carrying a fresh supply of grace, still connected to her soul. Get the journal and go."

Dean grabbed the journal and headed back to the hospital room.

* * *

He arrived at the door, and could hear Sam talking quickly and quietly. He stepped inside slowly, a stark contrast to the speed with which he'd crossed the rest of the hospital. "What did I miss?"

Sam looked up. "I was just telling Melissa about what we do, how we know Cas, and how you probably feel like shit for what happened earlier today."

Dean's mind went back to Castiel, in pain in the back seat of his car. If that was 'agitated,' he didn't want to see 'pissed off.' "You have no idea how sorry I am about that. Really. I'm trying to find out what happened to these missing kids, and we've run into some really nasty witches- I mean, some nice Wiccans, too, but I'm talking about horrible people, really, the ones that don't hold to the whole 'as it harms none,' bit, so when I saw that in the parking lot, I thought... well, I was wrong. I just ran in without asking questions, and I was wrong. I'm sorry."

Dean passed the journal to Sam. "Here, Cas said you needed this."

Sam took the journal, but answered, "Yeah, I don't think we should get into that just now."

"Well, Cas was pretty insistent."

Sam was about to respond with another stalling tactic, it was written all over his face, but his phone began to ring. He excused himself and stepped into the hall.

"Sam. Have you told Dean yet?" Castiel's voice asked.

"Not yet. I think it should wait." Sam said. "She's doing okay, the doctor is probably going to want her to stay, but she basically said she's going to leave anyway."

"She'll heal quickly. If she's not having any seizures, she must have adjusted. Usually, they only ever have an inkling of an idea about these things, they'll find out a hint of what their true nature is and envelop the idea slowly. I believe she learned of the concept from a Jewish friend a few years ago, but I wasn't sure she'd accepted it as her own existence... She has a particularly strong soul."

Sam shook his head. "I only understood about half of that. You'll have to explain later."

"I'm going to need to eat and sleep soon, Sam. I'm not able to care for this vessel entirely on grace, not after the expenditure of getting us both here."

Sam nodded on instinct. "I'll let Dean know, we'll get you set up."

* * *

Sam had been a pretty good buffer, but now it was just the two of them. The silence and the death glare were a special kind of deafening.

"So, any good places for pie in this town?" Dean asked, hoping that turning on the charm would lighten her expression.

"If I tell you where the good pie is, will it get you further away from me?" she asked dryly.

Dean chuckled and decided to ignore the 'fuck off and die in a fire' tone in her voice. "Depends on how good the burgers are."

"Nope," she said, disinterested. "There are some decent burgers around town, but what you really want is to hit up Cal's Diner on fourth and oak, get the chicken-fried steak fingers with extra gravy. It's the same spot as the pie."

"I'll have to do that, sounds like a damn good meal." Dean looked at the door, wondering when Sam would come back. He turned back to Melissa, not sure whether he should try to apologize again or ask about the missing kids, and Katy Easton.

Just as he opened his mouth, sure he was going to bumble his way through, the door opened again.

"Cas needs to do some vessel maintenance, are you ok here by yourself? One of us can come back and get you home later on, even if it's late, we don't mind, really." Sam said.

"Sure, go ahead. I've got Castiel's number." she waved them off.

Walking to the parking garage, Sam made a comment about leaving the bunker without packing.

"Yeah, I guess you were in a hurry. Don't worry about it. You still look like crap, so I'll drop you and Cas at the motel, and go grab you some stuff from the big box store, it'll get you through. In the meantime, maybe Cas can tell us more about this Llamaed Vavnik thing."

"Dude. It's Lah-med."

"What?"

"Lah-med," Sam reiterated.

"What did I say?"

"Llamaed."

Dean chuckled to himself. At this point, they had reached the Impala. As soon as his door was shut, he turned to face Castiel over the seatback, "Okay, I'm going to run out and get Samantha a new dress, you want anything? Razor, toothbrush, some clothes?"

"Just food and rest, thank you," Castiel replied weakly.

* * *

A short wait in a drive-thru later, Dean added Castiel's phone to the pocket where he kept his own as he watched to make sure Sam and Castiel got into the motel room safely before driving away.

Sam set the bag of Chinese food down on the small table as Castiel seated himself.

Sam glanced at where Dean's laptop sat closed on one of the beds. "I feel like I should be finding out more about that possible ghost, but I'm not sure I want to borrow Dean's computer. It's not like he was expecting company."

Castiel was almost half finished with his meal, taking bite after bite in rapid succession, "If it's local history, Melissa will likely know something about it. She likes to learn about the places she goes."

"Is that right?" Sam asked, finally taking a bite of his own food.

Castiel swallowed a large forkful, "I took her to Medicine Wheel in Wyoming a few years ago to spend an afternoon. She kept asking questions," his face was a cross between sheepish and exasperated, "I ran out of answers."

Sam smiled and tried not to laugh.

Castiel finished his food and drink and tried to stand. He swayed, and for a moment, Sam was sure he was going for the floor, possibly taking the flimsy table with him.

"Woah." Sam stood quickly, grabbing Castiel by his upper arms. "It's okay, I've got you."

Sam half carried, half dragged Castiel to the closer bed, rolling him out of his coat, as he sank to the pillows. He spread the coat over Castiel as a blanket.

Castiel felt his shoes come off and heard Sam's chair squeak as he sat down to finish his dinner.

* * *

Dean was putting the last of the bags into the trunk in the nearly empty and nearly pitch black parking lot when Castiel's phone started to ring.

"Yeah?" Dean answered awkwardly.

"I take it Castiel's not there." Melissa's voice seemed irate, having heard his answer.

"To be fair, y'know, he's not doing so good. Hopefully, he's sleeping it off. Should I run back over and pick you up?" Dean asked, closing the trunk.

"I guess so. I gave them two hours to bring me the A.M.A. paperwork, so I finally just took the I.V. out and left."

Dean wasn't sure if he found that dangerous and stupid, or incredibly bad-ass. "Okay, then. I'm about two minutes away."

"You'll find me at the gas station across the street from the hospital."

Dean saw a large yellow sign on the side of the gas station as he pulled into the smaller, bumpier lot. It resembled a caution sign, but instead said 'safe place.' He'd heard something about those signs once, and wondered if Melissa had been here before, under different circumstances.

He used Castiel's phone to send her a text message. "Here. Black Chevy."

She replied quickly, "in a minute"

Dean took out his own phone, finding he had missed a text from Sam, "Ask Melissa about the train bridge accident"

Dean put his phone away as Melissa came out and got in the passenger side door.

"Thanks," she didn't sound very thankful, but she probably didn't trust him, he sure wouldn't, were their situations reversed. "You remember the way back to the church?"

"Yeah. Are you okay to drive?" Dean watched her face carefully.

"I'm always okay to drive. Drove myself to the hospital with a stab wound, once."

Dean chuckled as he pulled out onto the street, "Okay, uh, good to know we have something in common... Listen, how much do you know about hunters?"

"The kind that shot Bambi's mom, or the kind that hang out with critters not-of-this-world, like Castiel?"

"The, uh, the second one."

"My mom's a hunter... if she's still alive. She left a few things with my dad when she split. I found them in a box when I was 10. A couple of weapons, some notes on chupacabras, ingredients to summon something, thank goodness I was too scared to touch any of it, and a letter telling my dad if anything came after me to run to some junkyard in South Dakota."

Dean had some fond memories of that junkyard, and the owner, "Okay, so, I guess you know it's nothing good."

Melissa nodded, "Sam mentioned it's what you both do."

"Yeah, so, I need some information, but I'm going to ask nicely this time. Is there a ghost legend about a train bridge near the college?"

Melissa thought for a moment, "Train bridge... Yeah, there is. 1937, the day before Katy Easton turned 19, she was killed trying to cross the bridge. They didn't know the last train they had seen was late, they thought they had an hour, and she was still out in the middle of the bridge when the next train came. The tracks still get some use, maybe a couple times a month. Some of the kids say the bridge is haunted, and they dare each other to go out there at midnight, which is stupid because she was killed in the middle of the afternoon."

"Have you ever been out there?"

"Sure. Not in the middle of the night, juvenile delinquent way, I took some pictures for a local history blog my dad had."

"Any chance you had an E.M.F. reader on you when you went?"

Melissa gave him a sideways look.

Dean shrugged, "It was worth a shot."

After a few moments, Melissa spoke up again, "It's a hunting thing, isn't it? ...Do you have everything you need to go check it out right now?"

Dean considered his trunk for a moment. They were almost to the church. The roads around the college were deserted, in the way of most small towns, rolling up the sidewalks at sundown."Yeah, I think so."

"Take a left."

Dean pulled up at a red light, and turned to look at her. "Are you sure this is something you want to be involved in?"

"Most likely, it's a load of crap. If it is, we rule it out, if not, we handle it before anyone else gets hurt."

Dean gave his classic 'you've got a point' frown/shrug. He turned on his blinker.

"By the way," Melissa said quietly, "If I remember right, they shipped her body back to her hometown, so one of those bone-burnings with salt from my mom's notes, if you do that, would be about two hundred and eighty miles out of the way."

"Awesome," Dean answered with a hint of sarcasm.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: There's some spooky imagery in this one that could be triggery, but I doubt I wrote it well enough to cause any issues for anyone who already watches the show. All the same, please take care of your mental health!
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Sam stretched out on the empty bed. As worn out as he was, he still couldn't sleep. The conversation just before Castiel had taken them out of the bunker that afternoon seemed so long ago, even though it had been a matter of hours.

He looked over at his unearthly friend, currently a large tan-covered lump, faintly snoring.

Sam retrieved his father's journal, turning the pages, looking for some vague hint that night not have made sense before. He didn't particularly want to believe what Castiel had told him, especially certain parts of it, but he'd never expect Castiel to lie. Not about something like this. It was far easier to believe the angel's explanation, that he had known all along, but kept the information to himself, and he'd done it before.

Sooner or later, Dean needed to know. Not much scared Sam anymore, but this did. This would take one of Dean's most protected weaknesses, and rip it wide open. He couldn't bring himself to admit the same weakness existed in himself, not yet, but hints of it danced at the edges of his mind.

* * *

Dean pulled under the bridge at the edge of the park. "I don't see any tracks."

"The railroad bridge is about a quarter-mile down the river, this is the closest place to park, there aren't any roads directly to it, just open field, and trees along the river. We'll want to stay back from the tree line, see where it starts upward?"

Dean looked where she was pointing. "Yeah,"

"It's a pretty sharp drop off the cliff, and the bridge is about 60 feet above the river."

Melissa helped him move the bags in the trunk to the back seat. Opening the hidden compartment, he passed her a few things. Normally, he'd split the load with Sam, but he had no idea what, if anything, she'd be able to do. She didn't strike him as the athletic type, or a brawler, certainly, and she'd just left a hospital, so he wasn't sure even a quarter mile hike was a good idea. He gave her a few just-in-case items, salt, holy water, a roughly four foot length of thin iron chain, and a flashlight, "This ought to be enough to keep you safe if there's anything nasty hanging out on the bridge. Salt, in a circle, they can't get in. Holy water works if it's a demon, and if it's a ghost, you can slow them down with the chain."

She put the flask of holy water in her back pocket, and the chain over one shoulder, loosely flipping it through itself at her other hip. Salt in one hand, flashlight in the other.

Dean turned to say something, but instead, just looked her over, "Can I ask you something?"

"Ask whatever you want, can't guarantee I'll answer it," Melissa replied, starting to walk away from the car.

Dean grabbed the sawed-off shot gun full of rock salt and closed the trunk, hurrying to stay close. "What makes you so trusting you're going out looking for something dangerous with someone who put a gun to your head today? I mean, you pretty much described a spot you'd hear about as a place someone found a dumped body. Doesn't exactly sound like a smart plan."

Melissa walked a bit further. Dean listened carefully. Just as he resigned to not getting an answer, she spoke, "Castiel has mentioned you and your brother before. He said he trusts you. That's rare, and he's never steered me wrong before. You both remind me of someone, too, but I can't put my finger on it right now."

Dean followed her up over a steep rise, coming to a stop at the top, standing next to her.

"There's your tracks," she said, shining the flashlight on the metal rails roughly twenty feet ahead of them, a break in the medium length grass, "That way runs right by the college, and that way is the bridge."

Dean could make out buildings in the darkness far off to their right, roughly a mile and a half away, and a dark shadow that looked like twisted metal a short walk to their left.

"Also, we're trespassing, but it's city property, so we probably don't need to worry about getting shot at," she added.

Dean started toward the bridge, "Good to know. Might want to hang back a little, keep the salt and holy water ready to go."

As they approached the bridge, Dean could tell it had been tree branches and shadows making the steel beams above the bridge look twisted. He turned off his flashlight, signalling Melissa to do the same.

"You see that?" Dean whispered, pointing at the far end of the bridge.

"Yeah, I see it. You think it's real?"

Thankfully the moon was bright enough not to need the flashlights once their eyes had adjusted, and the grass beside the tracks was soft enough they were able to get fairly close, hopefully unobserved.

They stopped near the bridge. At the opposite end was a figure floating about two feet above the tracks. A sudden gust of wind caused it to swing.

"Oh my God..." Melissa breathed in a whisper, "if that's a person, we might be able to get them down-"

She took off running for the bridge before Dean could stop her.

Dean couldn't tell if this was some prank, or if someone had hung themselves from on of the beams of the bridge above the tracks, but from their angle, it certainly looked convincing. Melissa clearly wasn't going to wait and find out. He ran after her, and was starting to catch up when she stopped abruptly, only a short distance onto the bridge, just as he got close to the wooden planks that held the rails.

"Go back! ... I can't move." she yelled.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks. He watched in horror as Melissa's body was quickly swung against one of the steel beams, and pinned there by some invisible force. His flashlight and gun in his hands, he began turning around quickly, looking for anything that could be causing it.

"Quit being a coward and show yourself!" Dean called into the seemingly empty night air.

A voice came from above him, high, light, and overly friendly, "Agent Lee? Oh, my gosh!"

Dean swung his light and his aim upwards. Fifteen feet above him, perched comfortably on one of the beams, was the blonde college girl from the coffee shop, who'd accompanied the missing girl's roommate.

"Charlotte?"

With a chuckle, she gracefully, and inhumanly, dropped from the beam, landing on her feet in the middle of the bridge, a smirk on her face, "Oh, Charlotte's taking a little nap in here. If you want to leave a message, she'll get it when I'm damn good and ready to move out."

In the beam of the flashlight, her eyes went black. She turned to Melissa, "Well, you're something else, aren't you? Not real clear what, but I bet I'd get a nice bonus if I served you up to the right person."

Dean looked around for his options. Despite the steel beams, there was no actual railing on the bridge. He didn't want to throw her off, though, not if there was some possibility of saving the young student with the promising future whose body had been hijacked. There was also the possibility of her dragging Melissa with her vindictively.

"So what is this? You string up a mannequin to get ignorant kids to come out here? Then what?"

"Oh, no. You won't get it that easily. See, I'm just here until I get enough of the one thing I was sent to collect." She looked directly at Dean, "You've learned a few things today, but you're not going to cut it. She's also not on the shopping list, more of an impulse item..."

Charlotte, or whatever demon was inside of her, was very close to Melissa now. She put her hand on Melissa's head and pressed the back of it into the steel beam, holding open an eyelid and looking carefully. "Oh, yes. I see it now. Only one way to get you there in one piece with him around, though. If he's got any idea, he won't want to take the risk."

Melissa slipped a hand between the small of her back and the beam. Dean barely had time to notice before thick black smoke rose out of Charlotte's mouth moving up toward the beans above them, and tried to circle black toward Melissa's face.

As Charlotte collapsed to her knees, Melissa came off the side of the beam as if she were dropped by whatever power had gripped her. Her hands came forward, grabbing Charlotte by the back of her neck, pouring holy water into her mouth with the other.

Dean watched in horror as the smoke dove for Melissa a second time, before launching upward and disappearing into the clouded night sky.

Melissa was still on her feet, even if she was shaking with residual panic. He went straight to Charlotte, who was unconscious but breathing, and the holy water wasn't causing any sizzling.

"How did you do that?" Dean asked.

Melissa didn't answer, but shakily started making her way off the bridge. Dean could see, even as dark as it was, that she was stumbling. He picked Charlotte up and started walking after Melissa.

Melissa stopped a short distance from the bridge before sitting down hard in the grass, burying her face in her hands, and attempting to slow her breathing. Dean carefully set Charlotte down and pulled out his phone. He did a quick search for a blessing to keep someone from being possessed after having a demon leave their body, got the rest of the holy water and the salt from Melissa, and was able to get it done quickly and without incident.

"So..." Melissa finally spoke with a relieved chuckle, "There's an app for that?"

Dean smirked, as Charlotte started to come around, "I wish."

* * *

After seeing Charlotte safely back to her sorority house, it was only another few blocks to the church where Melissa's minivan had been left in the parking lot. He had noticed her hands shaking as she got out of the Impala, and asked once more if she was capable of driving herself home. Upon her reassurances, he gestured to the van, cracked a soccer-mom joke, and waited until her van was on the road for her home before heading back to the motel.

He was exhausted, missed his turn and had to double-back, nearly missing it a second time, and finally made it to his destination, thankful there was a night clerk working the front desk. Dean claimed he'd locked himself out, and received a second key card.

Entering quietly to the lingering scent of fried rice and noodles, he found both beds occupied, and after locking up, sank into the sofa, stowing his gun in easy reach.

* * *

Waking abruptly to a loud chime from her phone, Melissa scrambled out of bed, surprised at the hour, and still groggy. The previous day had taken it's toll.

She was greeted by an alert from the school district, and tapped the link for the audio message in the needlessly complicated system, "This is an automated message from Robertsville Independent School District. Your student,... Dylan, ...is not in attendance today. Please remember to send a signed note-"

She closed it, and her phone immediately chimed with a second one for Johnny.

This was too much. There was only a week of school left, and their father didn't seem to care whether they even showed up. They'd had several times they'd arrived late, but late enough to receive the notification meant he was unlikely to take them to school at all.

Melissa put on her boots, the ones her ex seemed to find the most intimidating, changed her shirt in a hurry, and headed to her van, purse in one hand, hairbrush in the other. It was slow going along the county roads, making the last three miles into town. Her phone connected to the minivan's bluetooth, she dialed her ex husband.

Dylan picked up, "Hello?"

"Honey, where's your dad? I need to talk to him."

"He didn't come out of his room. We knocked a bunch of times, but now we're just playing video games."

"Okay, well it's ten, and you were supposed to be at school today, so get ready and I'll be there soon."

"Okay. I fixed me and Johnny some oatmeal."

"Good job. But go get ready to leave, I'm on my way."

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of Castiel pacing. "Take it easy on the carpet, it didn't do anything to you."

Castiel sat down at the table.

Dean sat up a bit, considering the coffee machine. He looked over at his brother.

Sam was snoring, curled up around the journal. Dean noticed he had fallen asleep with it open. He got up and took it from Sam's arm, managing not to wake him.

Tara's picture had been moved to a different page. This one had a cryptic note in John's handwriting, although that was certainly nothing new. It read "1-4-'01 - Texas. Bridge burnt." He had seen it several times before, and assumed his father had cut ties with someone, likely another hunter, perhaps some situation that had gone poorly. He had a few towns crossed of his own atlas where he'd never set foot again.

"Cas... what's going on?" Dean looked up. Castiel looked both restless and guilty.

"Which part?" Castiel asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Okay," he said, sitting down across from Castiel at the table, leafing through the journal to put Tara's picture back on the correct page. "I need you to fill me in. Let's start with the Llamaed Vavnik thing."

"Lamed."

"Yeah, that. So this thing goes that Melissa is this hidden saint...?"

"There are thirty-six saints at any given time, not connected to the Catholic Church, in fact you find this in the Hasidic Judaic traditions. When one falls, another rises to take their place. They do good deeds given the option, and they do so selflessly. It's very rare for humans to do that."

"Okay... Why did she pass out yesterday? You said that wasn't my fault."

"A Lamed Vavnik will, at some point in their lives, come across the term, and learn about the concept. Most have no idea whether they are one or not, but instead unknowingly try to achieve a similar status. If they discover they are one of these saints, normally it's during meditation or prayer during the end of their life. But she wasn't prepared to find out, her mind accepted it as a logical possibility, while her soul rejected the idea out of humility, and that conflict is what caused her to collapse."

"But, she has kids."

"So did Margaret Aetheling."

Dean looked at Castiel and decided for once to put it in a term Castiel once used. "I don't understand that reference."

"She was a Catholic saint, who also happened to be a Lamed Vavnik. She was a queen of Scotland, as well. There's no reason a holy person couldn't bear children."

"Okay, so, not exactly convent-required... So if it was so difficult for her to find out what she is, why did you tell her?"

"I was trying to tell you, Dean, not her. It just came out wrong. Because of what she is, and how necessary the thirty-six are, I cannot allow anything to harm her. It's compulsive. I was trying to warn you to back away before I had to do something to stop you."

"Oh. Well, good thing that worked out."

Sam started to stir, uncurling, and then feeling around in the blankets next to him.

"It's over here, Sam." Dean held up the journal, twisting it in the air a bit before setting it back down on the table.

Convinced he wasn't going to damage it in getting up, Sam rose and slowly headed to the bathroom. "Did you get me some clothes?"

"Yeah, they're in the car." Dean turned back to Castiel, "Funny thing, Melissa actually took me out to where this accident happened on a railroad bridge near the college last night, and you will never guess what she did."

Castiel froze, his eyes wide, "Dean-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Dean chuckled, "This demon was hanging around, it's been taking kids, luring them in with this ghost story, and she basically had us. The demon smokes out, tries to jump into Melissa, and while it's out of this little blonde co-ed, Melissa fills her mouth up with holy water so it can't get back in. Really smart for a girl who gets into cars with guys who've tried to kidnap her the same day."

Castiel took a moment, "And she's alright? She's safe?"

"Yeah, I was about to get out a demon blade, but Melissa saved her life."

"I meant Melissa."

"Oh. Yeah, she's good. Got a little roughed up, but she walked away just fine."

Castiel's face was intense, and his voice dropped to a growl, "Roughed up, how?"

"Calm down! She's fine. You know her mom was a hunter? Probably where she gets it."

"I don't like this," Castiel said quickly, "She shouldn't be hunting. And if she was hurt last night, I should've felt something."

Sam came back in, passing through the room, headed to the door. "You were pretty much dead to the world, Cas."

Sam opened the door as Castiel suddenly gasped in pain.

* * *

Melissa arrived at her ex husband's house. The kids were looking for one missing shoe, but stopped to let her in.

She walked down the hall to what was once her bedroom.

"Andy, are you in here?" after years of practice, she was able to demand it without any fear in her voice.

"Andy!" she knocked loudly, making her knuckles hurt, "The kids have school, you can't just let them skip. I'm going to take them, maybe you need to think this over."

Still no answer. She heard the front screen door open, and close again with a clatter, signalling that the boys were waiting on the porch for her. "Dammit, Andy, if you're using again... Look, just answer so I know you didn't leave them here alone!"

Nothing.

She opened the door.

* * *

Dean reached for Castiel, but he'd already jumped out of his chair. "I need to call her, now, you have my phone."

Dean went straight to the couch and grabbed it out of his jacket, tossing it straight to Castiel's hand. He had it to his ear in record time, "Melissa?"

"I'm okay... okay, hop in the van, guys..." Dean could hear the phone easily, even before it was on speaker.

Sam came back in with the store bags. "What's going on?"

Dean shushed him, and Melissa's voice came back over the phone in Castiel's hand, "Sorry, didn't want my kids to hear.. it's my ex. He's just... splattered all over the place. It's awful. What do I do?"

Sam tore off a tag from a pair of jeans. "Call the cops?"

Dean nodded at Castiel, "Tell her to call the police."

"Melissa, call the police. Try to avoid discussing anything paranormal. We'll be there  
soon."

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

Castiel directed them down the suburban streets of an older neighborhood. Much as he could have found his way back to the location in Hell where he had put his hand on Dean's arm and removed him from the festering cesspool of horrors, he would always know his way to this place.

They turned a corner and it was obvious where they were headed. Three police vehicles, two with lights still flashing, were parked haphazardly around one house halfway down the street.

Dean squeezed the Impala through on the bit of open street left, pulling forward to park in front of the blue minivan he recognized from the day before and the three piled out of the Impala.

Melissa was sitting on a low brick wall encircling a tree in the middle of the front yard, speaking quietly with an officer. As they passed the minivan, Dean noticed one of the back windows was open, and two small boys were watching a video on a tablet. He approached the window with a friendly smile, resting his hands on the glass, "Hey, guys. What's going on?"

The older one looked up. He had dark eyes, short dark hair, a few light freckles, and wire-rimmed glasses sat on his narrow nose. Dean didn't like the look he was getting from the kid, something in the child's eyes seemed oppressive, weighing on him heavily, "Are you a police officer?"

"No, uh, I'm Dean. I met Melissa yesterday, she's your mom right?"

The smaller one, seated closer to the window, looked at him with big greenish-hazel eyes, saying nothing, and went back to watching the show. He resembled Melissa a great deal more than the older boy, but the older one reminded Dean of someone, especially the set of his jaw.

"She's over there. And we don't know you, so since you're not a police officer, we can't talk to you," the bespectacled youngster stated bluntly.

Dean looked over to where Sam was following Castiel toward Melissa. Then he realized Melissa was giving him the same death-glare from last night at the hospital. He quickly backed away from the window, very visibly removing his hands from the glass with a sheepish chuckle, and followed after his brother.

The officer was speaking as he came within earshot, Dean noticed Castiel had a hand on Melissa's shoulder, and Sam looked a bit more concerned than usual, "I don't know how a person can be shredded, torn limb from limb, and wind up with walls like Jackson Pollock went nuts with a butter knife, and have those kids be completely oblivious to the whole damn thing, but it looks like that's what happened. Those little boys might be blocking it out, or they just might be real lucky. They should really get to school, though."

"After this, I don't know." Melissa sounded as though she didn't trust her own voice.

"Keep in mind, ma'am, you're going to need to wind down from this yourself, and I've seen you with them in the grocery store on more than one occasion, they aren't going to let you rest. They'll be safe at school, do you have someone who can take them, or maybe we can get someone to take them for you?" Melissa nodded in a non-committal way and the officer walked off.

"I'll take them," Dean offered after an awkward moment.

Melissa looked up at Dean's face, then at the officer's back, evidently judging distance and earshot, "You put a gun to my head yesterday, you aren't taking my kids anywhere!" she hissed.

"Sam, would you mind taking the children to their school?" Castiel asked politely.

Sam looked fairly startled by the request, "Woah, uh, Dean is a lot better with kids than I am. Loads better."

Dean looked at Sam, "All you have to do is go to the school and sign them in, tell the folks in the office there was a family emergency, and you're done. It's nothing you can't handle."

Sam took a deep breath, "Okay, I guess I can do that."

Melissa held out her keys.

"I'll text you Melissa's address, we'll probably go there as soon as the officers are done with her here," Castiel said, pulling out his phone and beginning to type.

Sam took the keys and started toward the minivan. He threw Dean a pleading look, which only made Dean smirk.

Castiel turned back to Melissa. "What do the police think happened?"

Melissa shook her head, "One theory was low-heat spontaneous combustion. Basically, he exploded, but nothing was burned... That's not a thing, right?"

Dean wanted to say it wasn't, except that he had watched Castiel suffer the exact same fate right before Sam had thrown himself into the cage, pulling Lucifer, Michael, and Adam along with him. "Oh, that's a thing. And I really hope that's not what went down here."

Melissa waved at a small hand sticking out of the minivan window, and hung her head after they'd driven out of sight. Dean walked over to where the officers were standing.

"So, listen, she's got a heart condition, and I'd really like to get her out of here," he said, gesturing to Melissa.

The officer from before spoke up, "Yeah, yeah, we got her statement, spoke to the kids, and we've got all her information, everything checks out, so she can go. Good idea, too, coroner's van is going to be here in a minute, and she's seen enough for today."

* * *

Sam slid into the driver's seat, quickly adjusting it to his height. Melissa was shorter than he was, and the difference was notable. He pulled his phone out, "Okay, fellas. My name is Sam. Your mom wants me to take you to school, what's the name of your school?"

"Fartbutt McAssface Elementary."

"No! It's Tootie-boot Damnhead!"

Sam wanted to laugh, but turned in the seat to look at the children directly, "I don't have time for this, guys. What's the name of the school?"

"Popsicle Buttdamn!"

"Neener-weiner!"

Sam shook his head. He did a quick search for elementary schools in the area, "Okay... I'm going to take you to West Field Military Academy. Maybe you'll learn the name of your actual school before we get there, and fill me in."

The smaller one squeaked out, "It's Russell Elementary! We go to Russell!"

Sam smirked at his bluff having worked, found the directions immediately, and began to pull away from the curb.

It wasn't much of a drive before they arrived at the school. Sam let the boys show him where the office was. As he walked in the door, he was tempted to reach for a fake I.D. before remembering he didn't have one on him, nor did he need one.

A woman in a dress, blazer, and lanyard with an I.D. on it was standing behind the counter. "Dylan, Johnny, did you have doctor's appointments today?"

"I'm afraid there was a family emergency. Their mother asked me to bring them." Sam spoke up from behind them.

"Okay, let me get their late slips," she said. Sam went to sign them in using the open visitors' binder, and realized he didn't know the boys' last name.

The woman in the blazer passed the boys their slips of paper and sent them out to class.

"Um, listen, I'm a friend of the family, I only just met Melissa yesterday, I know her last name is Faulkner, but I'm not sure about Dylan and John."

"Campbell."

Sam looked down at the page to hide the shock on his face, and mumbled, "That's new."

"Sorry?" she asked

"Uh, like the soup?"

"Yes, same spelling."

Castiel hadn't said anything about that, and it was a fairly common name, but he'd make sure to ask about it later.

He stared down at the form, nearly writing down a false name for the parent/guardian signature, but deciding against it.

"Is that everything you need?"

She looked over the paper, "Yep, that's everything. And please remember, if Melissa wants anyone to pick them up at the end of the day, we need to hear from her or their father, otherwise they'll be going home on the bus as usual."

Sam nodded, thanked her, and made for the parking lot.

* * *

Sam was almost certain he'd made a wrong turn somewhere, when he saw a familiar vehicle off the road to his left. A bit further, he found the turn for the driveway hidden in some trees on the empty county road, and turned in, following the rough driveway towards a medium sized ranch-style house. He pulled up next to the Impala.

Stepping out and closing the van door behind him, he found the lack of noise serene. On a low hill across the road, he could see cattle grazing. He passed a spacious garden next to the house. Dean must have heard the van, and met him at the door.

"Those kids are really something, huh?" Dean chuckled. Sam still looked uncomfortable, and he'd only been with them for a period of minutes.

Melissa was out of the room, looking for her heart medication. Castiel sat on the edge of the seat of a large recliner, stiffly, which Sam found rather par for the course where Castiel was concerned. Dean pointed Sam to a breakfast nook between the kitchen and living room, as they had stopped for breakfast burritos on the way back. Sam sat down at the table and dug a foil bundle out of the bag.

"So, Cas... These kids, their last name is Campbell," Sam said.

Dean had been pouring a cup of coffee in the modest kitchen but was back out again much too fast.

"Is their father related to our mother?" Sam continued bluntly.

Castiel nodded. "Distantly, yes."

"How distant?" Dean asked.

"Directly speaking, you would be fifth cousins, one generation removed."

"Did Samuel's people know about them?" Sam asked, swallowing hard.

"I don't believe so. Andy's grandfather had a falling out, and broke from the rest of the family. Andy would have known nothing about hunting unless Melissa mentioned it," Castiel shrugged uncomfortably, "Unlikely."

Dean wasn't sure what to think and went back to his coffee. Sam found himself at a loss for words, although clearly weighed down by the idea, and turned his attention back to the burrito. Castiel stood and moved slowly through the kitchen, taking a bottle of pills from the top of the refrigerator on his way through.

A loud noise and Melissa's voice swearing carried down a hallway from a room into which Castiel disappeared.

For the first time in a week, they were alone, together, with nothing important hanging over their heads.

"So..." Dean said, breaking the silence as he sat down with his coffee, "I guess that means we have some little cousins who aren't likely to try to kill us. That's awesome."

"Dean, she's Tara's daughter." Sam spat out before he could stop himself.

"That makes sense. She said her mom was a hunter, and that she split."

"That's why Cas told me to bring the journal."

"To show her a picture of her mom?"

"Dean..." Sam wasn't sure how to get this out, "Dad... didn't keep a picture of Adam's mom."

"Wait, you think that... That she..?"

"Cas said she is."

Dean looked at the hallway where Castiel had gone. He decided to stay put and wait for one or both of them to appear on their own.

"So, yesterday, when Cas told the paramedic that we're her brothers, that wasn't a cover? It's real?"

Sam nodded.

"And you didn't look at all surprised, because you already knew."

Sam looked Dean in the eyes. Clearly, he felt bad about finding out before Dean did, but what else could he have done?

"You knew, and you didn't tell me. Does she know?" Dean asked, pointed toward the hallway.

Sam shook his head. "Cas only told me because it was kind of an emergency. He wasn't sure how you'd take it, so he asked me to tell you, but we haven't had time. Anyway, it, um... It gets pretty bad after that."

"How? She got adopted by this other guy, looks like her life has been pretty easy, apart from that abusive ex."

Sam looked past Dean toward the hallway again. There was a small bit of pure white light fluctuating in waves on the floor.

* * *

Castiel slipped into the large bedroom with the missing pill bottle. Melissa was sitting on the floor, putting some things back into a cardboard box she shoved under a desk. He helped her off the floor and held out the bottle of pills. "They were in the kitchen."

"I checked the kitchen."

"You didn't see them on the refrigerator."

"I'm short."

Castiel smiled. Already three hours late, she didn't waste any time popping one dry. She put the bottle in her purse, which was sitting on a dresser by the door.

"Melissa, I'm sorry I was so abrupt yesterday. It was poor planning. You weren't supposed to know what you are, not yet. I didn't consider the consequences of telling you."

"These clowns you've got hanging around, have you told them something is after my kids?"

"No."

"Good. Hopefully, you won't have to. I called my birth father yesterday," Castiel listened, knowing full well that there was no way the man in question could have answered the call, "I got his voice mail, but I don't know, he might call me back, or just show up. If I'm lucky, really lucky, he won't do either, and he'll figure out what's going on, and as far as we'll ever know, this trouble will just pass us by, and never return."

Castiel sat down on the edge of the bed, "You're likely to be safer relying on Sam and Dean's help."

"I'd be better off if you were at full strength."

"You found your children's father dead this morning. Maybe you should rest." Castiel said.

"This could be as balanced as I'm going to get for a while, especially if he shows up, so if you can, I'd rather just get this out of the way while we have the time."

Castiel nodded reluctantly.

Melissa stepped close to him, as she had done many times, resting her hands on his shoulders, accepting his hands on the sides of her neck. She took a few breaths as she dropped into a deep, well-practiced meditation. Castiel watched carefully, as he always had.

What the human eye couldn't make out, but Castiel could, was the white light running through her chakras and flowing through her. Her hands flexed, steadying herself unconsciously. He felt it physically, but was preoccupied with the colors and shapes Melissa's soul was creating and manipulating.

Her eyes still closed, she began mouthing the words to a favorite song. The sound wasn't important, nor audible, but the intention of her subconscious mind to sing brought her throat chakra open, and grace began to slip out of it.

In the countless ages of Castiel's existence, this was still the strangest connection he'd ever imagined having with anyone.

His thumbs lifted her jaw, tilting her head back gently, making sure not to distract her. He slowly bent forward, and guided the newly formed grace into himself.

Castiel's eyes closed, lost in the feeling. It was a similar elation to touching a soul, but without the delicate control required to spare the life of the human. It didn't have the rotted desperation of stolen grace, either.

Warmth, thrumming vibrations, something sweet, tangled pieces of her soul sliding loose to allow the tendrils of grace to pass out of it, he could feel it all. Castiel was vaguely aware that his open lips met, and rested against the soft skin of her throat. His hands had slipped lower to embrace her.

With his own lack of movement, he eventually became aware of a slow pulsing in his arms. It was her breathing. He had collected all of the grace she had been able to create. He opened his eyes and brought one of his hands up to support her head. Her dark brown hair felt silky to his oversensitive hand. He tilted her head forward, laying it on his shoulder for a moment, considering the amount of time it normally took for her to come out of her trance. He could feel her slow, even breaths against his neck, warm and soft. For a moment he wished they could stay like this forever. Supporting all of her weight, he gently turned to lay them both down on the bed.

* * *

Sam decided to ignore the light. His words were quiet and slow, "Cas told me dad used to come see her sometimes. Not as often as Adam, but when she started practicing Wicca, dad didn't know the difference, thought she was a witch, and tried to get her to quit."

Dean looked at his hands, he had a feeling he knew where this was going. "She wouldn't do it...Right? She didn't stop, or she didn't stop for long... But there's no way he would have let that slide. What did he do?"

"Dean, he's gone, it's not like we can ask him to answer for- "

"What did he do, Sam?" Dean asked more forcefully.

"You know what? This isn't any of our business, and I wish Cas hadn't told me. You want to know, you ask her," Sam growled, sitting back in his chair, his face sullen, retrieving his phone to more effectively ignore Dean.

Dean thought back to a couple of times he'd refused to follow an order, or screwed up on a hunt. Most of the time, John would sink into a frightening silence, or rail against Dean's intelligence or wit, but there were times... He loved his father, but would always remember the feeling of his fist against his face. "Did he hit her?"

Sam shook his head, but refused to look at Dean.

Dean got up, unable to keep still. He slowly walked out the front door, and began to wander around, seething.

There was an old barn a little way off. It was old, and not in the best of repair, but not yet so dilapidated as to be dangerous. The garden looked pretty functional, mostly harboring a variety of vegetables and berry shrubs, and as far as he could tell, it needed no attention. A nearby tree had a dead branch hanging down almost to knee-level.

Dean's first thoughts went to Melissa's children. At the same age, he'd been something of a ruffian, and knew from years of experience that a similar child would attempt to climb it, starting with the low, dead branch. The branch might hold the first two or three times it was used, but it would eventually come down, and given the residents, it was much too likely to happen with a little boy under it, or on it. He shook it violently, trying to get the dead wood to snap before making his way to the barn, happily finding it unlocked, and containing a decent number of basic tools.

After more effort than he bargained for, he took the branch off at the break, and dragged it to a brush pile near the road. He had worn himself out, and sat down on the dead branch to consider a branch of his family tree.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Sam finished eating in a hurry, got a cup of coffee, and pulled out his phone to check his usual news websites for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing stuck out.

He could see Dean through a few of the windows, pacing around, clearly wound up, desperate to take out his frustrations on something he could fix. He watched as his brother fussed with a tree for a few moments before slipping into an old barn, and returning to the tree, began hacking away at a dead branch with a beat up old saw.

Sam ran a hand over his face, annoyed but not alarmed, and went back to his news articles, glancing out the window every now and again to make sure Dean hadn't hurt himself. Eventually, he knew, Dean would wind down and want to completely forget about it.

* * *

Melissa's hand had slipped from Castiel's shoulder to his neck, and he was more than content to leave it there. She started to stir, stretching slightly while inhaling deeply. The sound of her breath and the movement of her body didn't go unnoticed.

He glanced toward his lap, willing his vessel not to react in the way it wanted to.

When his eyes returned to her face, hers were open.

"Oh shit..." she breathed, getting up in a hurry. For a moment, Castiel was concerned she may have noticed where he was looking, and was upset with him. She pulled her phone out of her purse, "How long was I out?... Okay, I haven't missed the bus, it'll be along in an hour."

Castiel sat up and watched her silently as she ran a brush through her hair before leaving the room. He got up to follow her.

The dose of unstable grace was certainly empowering, but volatile. Her relaxed state had made him want to rest, and her momentary panic had put him on edge. He needed time for the grace to mesh with his own.

Melissa caught sight of Dean through the living room window, dragging the tree branch toward the road in what seemed to be the most ridiculous way possible.

"What is he doing?" she asked, turning to Sam.

"He got angry. When he comes across something that pisses him off, he drinks, punches stuff, or fixes stuff. I guess he didn't want to run you out of beer." Sam tried to smile and play it off like a joke, not quite succeeding.

She turned to Castiel, "You want to take him a beer before he gets to the rest of the tree? I'd like to keep it."

"Of course," Castiel said, and she passed him a bottle from the fridge before he made his way out the front door.

Melissa sat down at the table across from Sam, "I didn't have much time to talk to my kids today, were they doing all right?"

Sam noted the worry in her voice, "They seemed like normal kids to me. Gave me a hard time, spouted off a bit, but no real problems. And with some of the stuff we've seen, where kids were involved, I think if they knew what really happened, if they had any idea, they'd be acting much differently."

Melissa put her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. After a few moments, she spoke. "I have to tell them their father's dead... I don't know how. They're too young to deal with this, they just lost their grandpa."

Sam nodded and reached across the table to put a hand on her shoulder, not expecting that she would jump. He withdrew his hand quickly, "Sorry, sorry."

"Sorry, it's just, I've got a damaged nerve. Don't worry about it." Melissa replied quickly refusing to meet his eyes. Rarely would he call out an innocuous lie, but that didn't mean he didn't see it.

Sam looked out the window, hoping to get some way to change the subject. He spotted Dean, sitting on the tree branch drinking the beer, and Castiel standing nearby, but then Melissa was speaking again.

"Something is wrong. Really wrong. I've been able to feel it for weeks, now, Castiel's been trying to help me figure out what it is. I know that it's dark, powerful, and it wants my kids. It just hasn't been able to get to them, yet..." Melissa said, rubbing her temple with her thumb.

* * *

Castiel walked toward Dean in no real rush. Dean was hanging his head, but he looked up when Castiel approached. Dean's expression was hard to read, but certainly pained. Castiel handed him the beer.

"Well, I don't usually drink imports, but I've heard this one was pretty good," Dean said, trying to get his mind off the track it was currently stuck on.

"Melissa would prefer to keep the rest of the tree intact," Castiel said, looking at the place where Dean had removed the branch.

"Yeah," Dean answered him, "Yeah, no, I know, I was just taking off the dead part. You can't have these kids climbing dead branches, it's not safe."

"The children prefer to ride their dirt bikes on the all-terrain vehicle trail in the trees beyond the barn," Castiel said. Out of nowhere, feelings of sadness were washing over him. He wanted to protect something, end some unknown heartbreak...

Dean grinned, "Wish I'd had time for that as a kid. Hey, Cas, you okay?"

Castiel tried to shake the feeling, when suddenly he was struck with a white-hot flash of fear that made him gasp... He was thankful it disappeared quickly.

"I'm... adjusting."

"She gets agitated a lot, don't she?" Dean looked at the house. "What? Is she pissed off about the tree?"

"It's not the tree, Dean." Castiel said, "Whatever killed her ex-husband was coming for her children."

"Over my dead body," he said, standing up slowly, as his legs had cramped. Dean drained the rest of the beer and stretched, looking around. "How safe is this place, exactly?"

"There are powerful wards covering the entire plot of land. Unless you've seen the address written down, as I showed you when I sent the message to Sam, you would drive past it thinking it was uninhabited pasture. There are protection spells on the house, the barn, and even on the children themselves, including one that deflects danger that can't be neutralized." Castiel said, his voice straining near the end of his words as he suddenly found himself trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny about that?"

"I, huh, I don't know," Castiel said, trying for a more sober expression and failing. Dean was suddenly reminded of doped-up-future-Cas from one of his many time traveling episodes. It made him uncomfortable, but it passed quickly.

"Cas, what the hell, man? Is she mojoing you right now?"

Castiel shook his head, still smiling slightly. "She's not doing anything to me, Sam is trying to cheer her up."

Dean looked fed up. "How long until you're normal again?"

"You mean unaffected by her mood?" Dean nodded. "About two and a half days, depending on how much grace she's supplied."

Dean heard an engine down the road and turned toward it. A yellow school bus was slowing down, and stopped where the driveway met the road. He watched as Dylan and Johnny came around from the passenger side, loudly yapping about Pokemon cards. Dylan waved at someone in the bus as it pulled away, and they continued to the house.

Dylan looked Dean dead in the eyes as he walked, and he felt a tug of perceived disapproval from the child. It was just for a moment, but Dean's heart wrenched when he realized what he had failed to place before.

"Dean?" Castiel asked, not needing an entire question.

Dean looked at Castiel, then went back to watching the two boys going to the house. He spoke softly, nodding toward the older of the two boys, "He looks just like my dad."

* * *

"So, what do you do? Cas never said." Sam decided to broach the subject.

"Full-time mom, lately. You wouldn't know it, looking around here, but I'm actually a trust-fund baby. My dad made a killing in computers by getting into it in the late 70s and early 80s, so with the money situation handled, he started a few businesses, a couple of non-profits, the corporation runs the whole thing, and my brother and I each get a check every month. But my dad never got used to spending money, so neither did I. I keep busy by volunteering, you know, the school, the library, nursing homes, soup kitchens, charity stuff."

"Saintly stuff?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea." Melissa shook her head.

"I wonder what the pope would think," Sam started to laugh, "We could get our angel of the Lord out there to swoop into the Vatican, and tell him 'hey, this Wiccan Unitarian Universalist is your new boss.'"

Melissa laughed. "Nah, the pope is supposed to answer only to God."

"Cas tried to be God, once. That got... weird."

Melissa wiped at her eyes as tears welled through her laughter, even as conflict ate at her emotions. "Oh, my goodness... my kids will be home soon, their dad is dead, and I'm sitting here laughing. Can't wait for stuff to get back to normal."

Sam was quiet for a moment, waiting for his smile to fade. "Are you going to miss him?"

Melissa's face went a bit more grim than Sam would have expected, and she spoke purposefully, "My children are going to miss him. My kids are going to be hurt by this. That's what hurts me about it. Otherwise, it's kind of hard to care."

"That bad, huh?" Sam asked, his voice soft.

"I, um... I said some things in the hospital... I was out of it. You understand, right?" Melissa asked, trying not to look Sam in the eye.

"Yeah, I do. Dean will get that, too." Sam was quiet for a moment. "So, no idea what this thing is, how do you know it's coming?"

"That's a long story."

"I want to help. Dean said your mom was a hunter, and Cas said you were adopted, anything you'd feel like talking about? Stuff that could maybe fill us in?" Sam probed.

"My mom was pregnant when she met my dad, Rich, and when I was born they decided to put his name on the birth certificate because my birth father wasn't around. I guess word got back to him later. My mom split when I was two years old, I don't remember her, but if Castiel's right, she was probably trying to keep me safe. My birth father came and talked to my dad soon after that, or at least that's what my dad told me later. He said my birth father told him he wanted to make sure I was in a good home, and safe, but if my dad had any plans to give me back to my mom, to call him first. I guess he was ready to just disappear to keep things from getting complicated, but my dad talked him into dropping in when he could, asked him to try to get to know me." Melissa had started by speaking fairly easily, but began to stutter a bit as she went.

"There was a contract they had, my dad wanted to make sure if anything happened to him, that I'd go live with my birth father... But then I probably would have wound up dragged into the whole hunter thing, so I'm really glad that didn't happen." Melissa said quietly.

"Me too." Sam looked out the window at his brother. "Listen, do you, uh-"

"There's the bus," Melissa said, grateful for the interruption.

Melissa met her sons on the porch, with Castiel and Dean not far behind.

As Dean went to wash up, Castiel got roped into playing a video game with Johnny and Melissa sat Dylan down with his homework in the children's room. Sam took it as an opportunity to slip out to the Impala and get his father's journal. He sat on the passenger seat, door wide open, feet on the ground as he flipped to Tara's picture. He looked at the back again.

In the bright sunlight, he could it make out. The pen marks in the thick paper under the smudged ink spelled out a name. "Calls her Mitzy."

Sam slipped the photo into his shirt pocket and put the journal back in the glove box.

* * *

Dean splashed water on his face trying to cool off. That kid's eyes, his father's eyes, still followed him in his mind.

He wished he could speak to his father. It wasn't just Adam, but he hid Melissa from them, too. Was he afraid Dean was going to ruin things for them as well? Or was he just content not to tell them they had a sister?

A thought crossed Dean's mind for a split second... How many women, in how many bars over the years? And somewhere out there, he had a sister he didn't know about.

Dean let that thought go as fast as possible, but it added to the anger he felt toward John.

He looked in the mirror, thankful for his mother's fairer coloring, something to remind him that while he was his father's son, he could also be a different kind of man.

He wandered back out to the living room. Johnny, clearly a happy child, was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor with Castiel by his side. Both were holding wireless game controllers.

"Oh, I hit you with a turtle!" he yelled.

Castiel kept looking at his hands, pressing buttons seemingly at random. "Why is this considered recreational? It appears to be chaos."

Dean watched the screen for a few seconds. "Cas, are you playing as Princess Peach?"

Castiel looked up. "Johnny said this character was able to drive faster. I was hoping for an advantage."

Johnny looked directly at Castiel and said loudly, "I lied! I just wanted to see if you'd be the girl."

Dean bust out laughing. He reached out a hand, and Castiel passed him the controller. He sat down on the recliner behind the two of them, and quickly figured out the controls. It wasn't too difficult to make up a couple of laps against a kindergartener, at which point he stood up, "There ya go, Cas, you're in the lead."

Dean looked around for Sam, and saw him coming back up to the front door from outside. He slipped out onto the porch. "Where did you run off to?"

Sam only shrugged.

"Well, that's specific. Listen, she's going to have to tell the kids, maybe we should wait and tell her the rest later."

Sam looked over Dean's shoulder to the screen door behind him, then back to Dean.

"She heard all of that because she's right behind me." Dean guessed.

Sam nodded. Melissa stepped out onto the porch. "Whatever it is, just spill it. I can't take much more today, waiting's only going to make it worse."

Dean started to stumble over choosing the right words. Sam put a hand on his shoulder, "Dude, just shut up."

With his other hand, he reached into his shirt pocket and held out the small photo to Melissa. "You have pictures of your mom, right? And this is her? Tara?"

Melissa took the photo. "Yeah, it is. Where did you get it?"

Dean piped up, "Our dad kept it in his journal."

Melissa's face made it clear she hadn't made the connection just yet.

"Turn it over." Sam said, "See where it says 'Calls her Mitzy?' That's you, isn't it?"

Melissa's face went blank. Dean would have preferred to see her angry, or worse, devastated, but the blank, empty expression chilled him.

Her voice was barely a whisper, with an overtone of pain, "Don't ever fucking call me that again."

Ignoring their shocked faces, she turned around and went back into the house.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Dean has a bit of Hell-related PTSD. You watch the show, so you're probably fine with this, but mental health is not to be taken lightly. Please keep yourself safe.)

* * *

Sam and Dean exchanged looks before following her back into the house, keeping some distance. Something of a shiver took over her shoulders, and she was moving slow and deliberately in an off-putting manner. She turned the corner to go into the hallway, and Dean caught her elbow, "Melissa, wait. This is kind of a big deal. Can we please talk about this?"

Sam waited, not wanting to crowd the hallway. He was pushed aside by Castiel, harder than he would have expected.

Castiel was between Dean and Melissa in a split second, one hand on Dean's throat. In a gravelly tone, he ground out, "What did you do?"

Dean let go of Melissa immediately, surprised by Castiel's sudden fury, "We told her. You wanted us to tell her, remember?"

Melissa kept walking, almost slinking away in a state of something that seemed close to shock. Sam didn't feel like he could trust the look on Castiel's face. "Melissa, wait! Your kids!"

Melissa stopped.

Sure enough, when Sam looked back to Castiel's eyes, they had begun to glow white.

"You have to stay calm, Cas is a mess because you're hurting, and that's not safe for anyone. Please," Sam stressed the word, "You can do that for you kids, right? Keep it calmed down, breathe through it?"

Melissa turned around and looked at the three men in the hallway. Dean, grasping Cas' arm, Cas with his hand around Dean's throat, and Sam stuck behind them both trying to get her to relax.

"You all need to go."

"Melissa..." Sam started.

"Take Castiel with you. I need some time."

Castiel's eyes faded to his usual blue as he watched her shut herself in her room at the end of the hall. He didn't move. Dean was watching for Castiel's next reaction, and didn't move either.

Sam shook his head at both of them and physically removed Castiel's hand from Dean's throat.

* * *

Dean glanced at Castiel in the rear view mirror several times on the drive back to the motel. He thought he could see a range of emotions cross his friend's face every time he looked.

He looked over at his brother once or twice as well, under the guise of checking his side mirror. He was glad Sam had talked Melissa down enough to get out of there, but he wasn't sure they'd be any safer with Castiel with them.

"Cas... you know, we weren't trying to upset her. You understand that, right? We were actually talking about letting it wait until this stuff with her kids settled down, but then she was right there, and she wanted to know. In fact, you could even say she demanded that we tell her."

Castiel looked rattled. "I don't know what happened. I only know she was upset... She's still upset."

Sam turned in his seat a bit. "It could be past trauma. Cas, if you had just told us, or told her before all of this, it wouldn't have happened this way."

"I see that now," Castiel said, "But I still feel it would have been inappropriate. I don't go around telling people who they're related to, it's not any of my business."

For a few minutes, they were all silent.

"Cas, yesterday, you said you choose to be a guardian of every living Winchester." Dean said, "How many?"

"Five... It would be six if Adam were removed from the cage."

Dean tried to ignore the sting that came with the reminder of his other younger brother's fate, and quickly continued. "Okay, so there's us, Melissa, and her boys, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Nobody else we might need to know about?"

"No."

Dean pulled into a parking space close to the door of the motel room, getting out and going straight for it.

Castiel was shaking slightly. Sam noticed and opened the back door to try to help him to his feet. "Sam, I don't like this feeling... I think she's telling her children about their father."

Sam gently pulled Castiel out of the car, closing the door, and guided him into the motel room.

Castiel sat down heavily at the table. Dean flopped onto the couch unceremoniously, tired from his wrestling match with the tree. Sam closed the door, and leaned back onto it, looking back and forth between Castiel and Dean for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "Okay, I don't know about you guys, but I need a salad."

Dean barely looked up. "Grab me a burger?"

Sam nodded. "Cas?"

Castiel's eyes were full of sorrow and confusion, but also physical pain. "I don't require food at this time."

Sam shrugged, "You can come along if you want."

Castiel just looked down and shook his head.

Sam got the keys from Dean and left.

Dean dragged himself off the couch, and silently headed into the bathroom. After a few moments, Castiel could hear the shower running.

He was grateful to be alone. He could feel her tears welling up in his eyes, and to a lesser extent, the broken hearts of her children, and it pained him deeply.

* * *

Melissa woke up in her bed around two o'clock in the morning with both of her children curled close on either side of her. She had fed them an early dinner of anything they pleased, provided it was on hand, and afterward, explained that there had been 'an accident,' and that their father had died. She made sure not to tell them they had been in the house with him when it happened, she hoped they'd assume it was a car accident, and not ask too many questions. Following that, there wasn't much else to do but hold them while they cried.

She carefully slipped out from between their overly warm sleeping bodies, and made her way to the living room, not bothering to turn on lights. She lay down on the sofa, which she found perfectly comfortable, until about an hour later, when she tried to roll onto her back.

A small toy car had been left on the couch, and pressed into an old scar as she slept...

* * *

Dean had a gun in one hand and a knife in the other before he was awake enough to discern which weapon was in which hand.

Sam, also packing, turned on a lamp as Dean scanned the room.

Castiel had been silent most of the evening, and declared a need to sleep shortly before the two brothers would normally turn in for the night. Needing far less of it, he had decided to use the couch instead of one of the beds. He was still on it, barely, and still asleep.

Clearly caught in a nightmare, Castiel thrashed an arm blindly, another yell building low, then escaping his mouth all at once.

Dean dropped his weapons and went straight to the couch, grabbing Castiel by the ever-present trench coat. As Dean dragged the angel to his feet, shaking him to wake him, his blue eyes flew open and a plea, genuine begging, slipped from his lips. "Stop cutting me!"

Dean froze. He was still half asleep, running on reflexes alone, but visions of his time in Hell replayed through his mind.

Castiel regained full consciousness, and shortly afterward, his balance. He realized Dean was perfectly still, eyes staring in a startled manner, fists still full of Castiel's coat and jacket.

He tilted his head, about to ask a question, but Dean swallowed hard, and made a beeline for the bathroom, shoving Castiel to the side roughly.

Sam had gotten to his feet, not knowing what would happen next, and quickly dodged Dean as he moved. He looked back at Castiel. "Are you okay?"

Castiel opened his mouth to reply, but they both glanced in the direction Dean had gone when they heard him throw up.

* * *

Melissa's nightmare had ended, but she was too shaken to sleep. She sat slumped on the sofa, the offending toy car placed on the coffee table before her. She looked to the corner at the liquor cabinet her father used to open during his small get-togethers over sporting events.

No way was she drinking this close to her kids waking up. Today they'd be a mess, they'd need her at the top of her mom-game, special breakfast, reassuring words, and enough snuggles to melt a grinch.

She slid to the floor, back firmly against the front of the sofa, and slipped into a meditation.

* * *

Castiel sat awkwardly on the couch.

Dean came out of the bathroom, having brushed his teeth, and stretched out on the bed he had left a short while before, sliding his weapons back into their hidden places.

Sam was sitting on his own bed, flipping through a book to wind down. "Dean, if you're coming down with it, maybe we should head back to the bunker."

Dean lay on his back, one arm over his eyes. His voice was grave. "I'm not sick, Sammy."

Castiel wondered if Dean's reaction was his fault. He looked at Sam, but had no idea what, if anything, Sam had told his brother.

He began to stare at his hands. Feelings of peace and quiet acceptance began to flow through him. He leaned back into the back of the couch, closing his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Sam turning the lamp off, likely assuming Castiel was going to continue to sleep.

Castiel didn't bother to correct Sam, instead relaxing into the calm waves flowing through his mind.

His grace, and the grace Melissa had supplied him with were still not fully mixed. It would take some time, he knew, but he gently began to prod, testing if there could be some way to speed up the process.

He attempted to fold the new grace into his own, he tried to blend edges of the two, or stir them together, but it was like playing with oil and water in the same dish.

He stopped trying to manipulate the two types of grace, and instead, began to observe.

* * *

Melissa sank deeper than she had intended, and had to struggle not to fall asleep.

In her mind, she could see each sigil carved into the fence posts, each bundle of herbs meticulously buried. She could feel the glowing light she had wrapped her children in, and the waves of dreams emanating from them. The golden shielding surrounding the house and the barn, the blue bubble hiding the land around the house from harm. Mentally she checked them, testing them, shaking them, making certain everything was still secure.

In her trance, things looked very different from the waking world. And in the distance, there was a dark cloud, too low, and too intense to be any kind of weather pattern. It was the size of a large house, and it was looking for them. She had hidden her children well, but the glow was too obvious.

"Castiel..." she whispered.

In the motel room, Castiel turned away from his shifting graces and looked for her voice, the only thing he needed to find himself at her side. She was watching the cloud searching the low hills in the distance, coming closer all the time.

Finally, it hovered over the road, and they could see them, large black beasts resembling dogs. They were sniffing, looking for a way in, some kind of entry point to get onto the land.

"I don't think we have any time left," she said quietly, as if she were worried they'd hear her and come closer, "And I don't know what to do."

Castiel took her hand. It was a human gesture, meant to comfort a human, but not one he had used of his own volition very often. He felt awkward, but hoped it didn't show. "Yes, you do. You're afraid of the pain it'll bring you. You're afraid to ask for help."

Castiel turned to face Melissa directly. It was much easier to feel her thoughts in this space. She had welcomed him into her mind while he still held a residue of her soul inside of his grace. "You cannot consider them the sons of your father. They are not him. They are your brothers, and they want to keep you safe."

Everything around them took on hues of yellow, grey, and brown as her pain swept over them both.

"So did he," Melissa stated, a hint of poison in her words.

The alternate state of being was beginning to fade away. She squeezed his hand. "Bring them over, I'm already awake."

Castiel found himself in total darkness, and then opened his eyes.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

The Impala pulled up to the house shortly before dawn. Sam was still stretching as he made it to the door. He was about to knock when he realized the front door was open wide, only the screen door stood closed, and homey sounds and scents traveled outward from the kitchen. It was oddly welcoming.

Castiel walked past him, going straight into the house, motioning Sam and Dean to follow him quietly.

Melissa stood at the stove making scrambled eggs. The coffee pot on the counter was one cup short of full, and the table contained a stack of plates and forks, a platter of pancakes, syrup, and a large plate of bacon.

"Hey..." Sam said, mostly to break the silence.

"Sorry I flipped out yesterday," Melissa said, just loud enough to be audible. "I wasn't expecting that... and the last person who called me 'Mitzy' was an abusive asshole."

Sam nodded, easily catching the distaste with which she used the nickname, "Won't happen again, I promise."

"So..." Dean said, trying to keep things from getting too quiet, "You're our baby sister... We didn't expect that, either."

Melissa nodded. "It's the same car... Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess it would be," Dean admitted.

Melissa kept stirring. "I guess I didn't notice because it's been a while... You took the alley-spotters off."

Sam took a coffee mug out of the drain rack by the sink to pour a cup, "Yeah, Dean rebuilt the car after our dad died. Didn't seem to be any sense in putting them back on."

Melissa was quiet for a moment, as Castiel, wandering around the living room, came back into the breakfast nook, "Didn't know he passed away... Sorry."

Dean looked at Castiel, "You didn't tell her?"

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off, "Yeah, yeah, not your place, got it."

Dean looked back at Melissa, "Since Cas hasn't been too good about keeping people informed lately, I'll go ahead and tell you, I met your mom a few years back. I only talked to her for a few minutes, but she was really something else... She died fighting."

Melissa shut her eyes hard for a moment. "Thanks for telling me."

She took out a large bowl and moved the eggs to it, setting it on the table then going back to the counter for her coffee cup, finally sitting down, "Dig in. I'm gonna let the kids sleep."

Dean awkwardly passed Sam a plate, as he was closer to the stack, but the silence that settled over the table had taken an intense foothold.

After a few moments, she spoke again. "My kids aren't safe here. Something is after them, and I think it's what killed their dad. It almost got through last night."

Dean glanced at Castiel, wondering if that was what had set off his nightmare.

"But no idea what it is?" Sam asked, dishing up some eggs as Dean got up for coffee.

Melissa shook her head.

"During pregnancy, a child leaves cells behind that live on in the mother's body for the rest of the mother's life," Castiel said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks for that, Cas, but the humans are talking," Dean said, having nearly spit out his coffee.

Castiel turned to Dean. "It's scientific fact, and not without it's uses. Melissa can, with enough power, direct the danger to follow those abandoned fetal cells, while the children are moved to a safer location. We have discussed this previously."

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, and turned to Melissa, "You said you have a brother in Birmingham, right?"

"Yeah, my dad got married when I was really young, my stepmom died when I was twelve, but Chase and his wife, Leann, they're supposed to take my kids if anything happened to me and ... Well, I guess now, their dad isn't an issue."

Sam continued, "So, how safe would they be, there?"

Melissa thought about it, "Chase knows what I do, and Leann does some of it herself, but she's not as strong. Last summer we went for a visit, and I helped them ward their place, since it's a lot bigger than this."

"So, pretty safe?" Dean asked, getting up to get some coffee.

"Yeah."

"Then," Sam continued, "We'd have to split you and the kids, get the kids to Alabama, and anything coming after them would follow you. I guess we take you to the-, er, our base of operations, and see what follows you there. Once you're inside, you should be safe while we figure out how to take out whatever comes after you."

Dean leaned on the counter, looking at the two of them. He hated splitting up from Sam knowing there was any kind of danger coming, but he understood.

Castiel hadn't sat down, but continued to wander around the kitchen, at one point taking a strip of bacon from the plate on the table. Dean sat back down and watched him as he helped himself to pancakes. He was vaguely aware of Sam and Melissa's conversation changing. Dean thought back to what Castiel had said... _before I pulled you out of Hell_... No wonder she was so comfortable with Castiel roaming her home like a misplaced alien and acting weird, he must have been doing it for years.

Dylan appeared, standing in the hallway, looking through the kitchen, looking too tired and too sad to care what was going on. He was dragging a large plush fish by the tail, and wasn't wearing his glasses. He rubbed his eyes at the light, then walked to the table, mumbling, "I smell bacon."

Melissa had just taken a bite, and was chewing faster to answer him, but Dean waved him closer, moving out the chair next to him, "Yeah, there's bacon. C'mon."

Dylan put his fish on the chair and climbed up to sit on it, earning an odd look from Dean. This kid was in second grade, and pretty big for his age, so he certainly didn't need a booster.

"You like pancakes, too?" Dean asked. Dylan nodded, and Dean put one on his plate. Up close, he noticed Dylan's freckles were about the same shade as his own. He put a few strips of bacon on the plate as well, as Dylan started to munch groggily.

Dean looked up, and noticed Castiel had vanished. Sam and Melissa were still talking, but murmurs were coming from down the hall. He got up to check on his friend.

Dean walked down the hallway quietly, and came to the door Melissa had shut herself behind the day before. It was open by a few inches. Castiel was standing in the middle of the floor, holding Johnny. The child was a sobbing, blubbering mess on Castiel's shoulder.

"It's going to be alright," Castiel said, trying to soothe him.

"My daddy is dead forever!"

Castiel spoke quietly, telling Johnny about Heaven, and the painless rest eternal that awaited his father there.

Dean slipped away, back to the kitchen, not in the least convinced that the guy deserved it.

* * *

Sam followed Dean outside as Castiel led Johnny by the hand to the table. He wasn't crying anymore.

Dean got far enough from the screen door that he was sure they could talk without upsetting the children.

"Okay, so she's got to make this spell work, and we've got to get her on the way to the bunker before we try to move the kids, to make sure it's working." Dean said quickly.

Sam shrugged, "But we won't know right away if it's working."

"No, we won't, not until something rears its ugly head. Cas said on the way over that he could see it coming, right? So she can see where it is, or sense it, and so can he. We'll get everything the kids need loaded into the Impala, and have Cas stay here, if he sees it following us, you wait until it's out of range, and head for Birmingham. That way, if it doubles back, Cas is still close by. If it keeps following her, he can zap himself to wherever we are."

"Wait, you want me to take the kids? In the Impala?" Sam asked, trying to reject both ideas.

"Yeah. I know Baby inside and out, there's no chance you'll break down, can't guarantee that with any other car. And I don't think she wants me around her kids, after the whole trying-to-kidnap-her thing."

They turned at the sound of the screen door, and Castiel came over to join them.

"How's the kid?" Dean asked.

"Johnny required sprinkles but he is eating now."

Sam shook his head, "I don't think I can do this."

Dean scoffed, "It's not that hard, man."

"Not when you've been taking care of a kid since you were a kid," Sam answered.

"Hey, if I managed as a kid, you can manage as an adult. Just don't get drunk and yell, and you'll do fine." Dean turned to Castiel, "How's your mojo doing? You strong enough to zap yourself around?"

"Yes, if it's just me. I will need to rest between 'zaps,' though." he said. His cheek flinched and he looked at the door he'd come through a moment before.

"What about your psychic PMS?" Dean continued.

Castiel looked confused.

"Mood swings, outbursts. You likely to freak out if she gets angry?" Dean asked, studying Castiel's face.

"She's not likely to be angry for a while. She's about to be removed from her children, who lost their father only yesterday," Castiel replied. "Her pain is fairly high, but I'm not experiencing it as intensely as I was."

"Okay, so we'll need to start getting things ready, how long is this spell going to take?"

* * *

Melissa sat at the table looking at her children.

Anything. Even trying to call her birth father. Anything to protect them.

She understood she was going to throw herself to the wolves with this plan, even if her newfound brothers and celestial friend seemed optimistic.

Anything... So why was it so hard to know she was going to be separated from them?

It struck her painfully, and suddenly. When she sent them off on their way to 'spend part of the summer' at Uncle Chase and Aunt Leann's house, it could be the last time she would see them. In a month, in a week, even tomorrow, perhaps they'd be orphans.

She looked around the breakfast nook, the kitchen, the living room... There was no guarantee that they would ever see this home again. How much would they remember? Of their lives before this danger started hunting them? Of their father? Of their home? Of her?

She couldn't do this to her kids, not today. There would be time enough to cry, scream, and punch things later. They needed her now.

"Guys, something I want to tell you... Remember last summer when we went to visit Uncle Chase? He had that big house, and we all rode horses, and went swimming, and we had that bonfire?"

Dylan nodded, continuing to eat. Johnny piped up, "Yeah, and I found that grass snake and Uncle Chase made me put it back."

"Right. Well, I wanted to do that again this summer, but there's some business stuff I have to take care of first, in Dallas. Boring stuff. It's going to take a few days."

Johnny started to whine loudly, remembering the last time there'd been an issue large enough to require his mother's attention at the Faulkner Corporation, shortly following his grandpa's death. "I don't want to wait in the office for days!"

"I know, I know," Melissa continued, satisfied with Johnny's reaction, which Dylan seemed to share, still chewing with a disgusted eye-roll. "So I was thinking you can go right away, and get there, start having fun, and I'll get done with the boring stuff super fast, and get to Uncle Chase's house right away when it's done."

Dylan, mouth finally empty for a moment, answered. "I like that plan better."

* * *

Sam came out of the house carrying a medium-sized suitcase. Dean was moving the children's booster seats from Melissa's van into the back seat of the Impala.

Castiel stood next to the car, looking at a worn installation manual that had fallen from the back of one of their boosters. "Dean, does your car have a L.A.T.C.H. system?"

Sam set the suitcase in the passenger side floor. "What's a Latch system?"

Dean, upper body inside the car as he wrestled with the seats, spoke loudly, "It's a feature to strap kids and babies in safer, and it's only in cars that aren't classics, so no, it doesn't have that." Dean stood up, closing the car door, "But they'll be fine... Just don't hit, or get hit by anything, right Sam?"

Sam shook his head. This whole thing with the kids was making him increasingly uncomfortable, and Dean was caught between reveling in it, and trying to encourage him.

Dylan and Johnny, now dressed, came out of the house.

"We don't have to go to school today," Dylan said bluntly. Dean nodded.

Johnny walked over to the Impala, peaking into the window. "Why are our seats in your car?"

"Because I'm taking you to visit your Uncle Chase," Sam said, trying to sound confident.

"Is my mom going to Dallas alone?" Johnny sounded worried.

"No! No, absolutely not. I'll go with her." Dean said, looking down at the smaller of the two boys, "I'll keep her safe, and get her back to you as fast as possible."

Dean realized as the children wandered off to play, satisfied by his answer, that he had just made a promise he might not be able to keep.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

The time came at roughly 2 pm. The spell had been worked, and both Castiel and Melissa were exhausted and somewhat testy.

Dean had tried to get Sam and the children to toss a football around, but the youngsters were more interested in throwing rocks at a tree stump behind the house, which Dean found to be a pointless endeavor.

Melissa had written down everything she could think of that Sam might need to know concerning the boys, gave him a spare key both to lock up after leaving, and also in case something went wrong and they had to double back for safety. She had also given him an emergency credit card she kept available that had a particularly high limit, while making a crack about spur of the moment trips to Tijuana.

She had come out of the house in jeans, western boots, and a casual blazer over a loose blouse. She had also put on just enough makeup to be noticeable. It was a conservative outfit that would blend in well enough anywhere in the region without drawing any extra attention.

After hugging her children, assuring them she'd be in Alabama with them as fast as possible, she put her suitcase in the back of her van.

Dean shook Sam by the shoulder, "You got this, Sammy."

Sam scoffed in response, visibly nervous, "Hope so. Get there in one piece, alright?"

Dean nodded, and got into the passenger side of the minivan.

"One more hug, momma!" Johnny said, running up to her. She wrapped her arms around him, lifting him off the ground just a little. She turned to Dylan, who threw his arms around her waist and hoisted. It was only an inch or two, but she did leave the ground.

Dean watched through the window, wondering for a moment how old he would have been if he'd ever been able to lift his mother.

"Okay, I gotta go. Show Sam where I keep the ice cream..." she said, pulling Johnny into the same hug with his brother, and kissing them each atop the head in turn. "I love you both, very much."

Melissa got into the van and pulled out onto the road. About a quarter of a mile from the house, Dean glanced at her, and noticed the tears on her cheeks. He looked away, quickly, considering what he could say to try to make it better. He could describe the bunker, and how she'd be safe there, tell her that he knew Sam would keep her kids safe, or ask about how she had met Castiel, but nothing seemed to fit.

Dean soon became frustrated with his inability to find anything appropriate to say, and compulsively reached for the radio.

Classical music came through the speakers at a far clearer tone than he was used to, and he chalked it up to the newer electronics. It was deep tones, a slow beat, and heavy on the cellos. A violin came into it with a weeping tune.

"Not that." Melissa groused, wiping at her cheek and sniffling.

"Okay," Dean said, and pressed a preset button. He hadn't heard this before, but as far as newer music went, it didn't suck. "This okay?"

She nodded. "We'll be in Waco in about an hour, and Dallas in about two and a half. I need to stop at the corporate offices, it should only take a few minutes."

Dean smiled, "Wow... You've got a vegetable garden and a barn, and a corporate offices... You really have it all, huh?"

"I want my kids to have balance, like I did. No penthouses, no caviar, not until they get the basics down, anyway. Teach them to be decent people."

"No, no, I get it. And they seem really great, you know. You must be a good mom. Kids don't turn out that cool and easy going if they have problems at home."

Melissa didn't answer. When the song ended, commercials came on, particularly one of the most annoying used car lot ads he'd ever heard. Dean hit another preset, which tuned to a station with something too new, and too loud for his tastes. He pressed the next one on the panel and it turned to a classic country station, which he might have tolerated if it weren't for the heartache often found in the genre. The following button only carried static. He noticed a small red light glowing next to the words 'CD In,' and pressed a mode button to change it to whatever was in the player, only to be loudly greeted with something fast and indescribably chipper.

She leaned forward and slapped the volume knob, which, when pressed, was also the power button, and the music left a heavy auditory void.

"Interesting choice of tunes," Dean commented quietly.

"Considering it would've been Barney or Sesame Street a couple years ago, I don't complain about Phineas and Ferb," Melissa replied, "And as far as cartoons go, the songs are actually pretty good."

Finding himself at a loss, so used to being behind the wheel, and now having nothing to do with his hands, he felt awkward, and pulled out his phone.

He selected 'Cas' from his contacts list and sent a text. 'Is it following us?'

He set his phone down on his thigh, trying to seem cool and collected, glancing at Melissa. He felt strange, knowing they were deliberately trying to get something powerful and dangerous to come after her. On the other hand, however, it didn't feel strange enough. Not in his line of work.

The silence became oppressive, and finally, Melissa pointed to a small hatch below the stereo, "I've got Molly Hatchet and Rush. Maybe some .38 Special, if Johnny didn't tie it to the swing set again."

Dean perked up immediately as he reached for the handle, "Awesome."

His phone chirped. Castiel had responded, 'Yes, but moving slowly. We will wait a while longer before moving the children.'

* * *

Dean wasn't sure when he nodded off, but he woke up to the familiar sound of rustling feathers settling behind him.

"How are the boys?" Melissa immediately asked, as anyone would have expected.

"They're fine. The danger is following you and didn't notice them leaving, but it seems to be picking up speed," Castiel responded.

Dean looked for a mile marker. "Where are we at?"

"Almost to Waxahachie," Melissa answered.

Dean nodded and put his head back down against the headrest.

* * *

Sam had decided to try to avoid the traffic in Houston, and pulled into a diner in Conroe. The children had been talking about food, and it was attached to a gas station. "You guys hungry? I bet this place is good."

Dylan unbuckled and leaned over the back of the front seat, "How can you tell?"

"Uh," Sam shrugged, looking for any way to answer the child's question, and praying he was gullible, "Look, they have a cartoon chef on the window. That means the food is good."

Dylan looked skeptical.

Johnny bounced out of his seat, "I want a grilled cheese sandwich!"

When Sam finally got them corralled into a booth, the waitress came by with a menu, two kids menus, and some crayons.

"Okay, let's see what they got. Can you guys read yet?" Sam asked.

"I can read. Johnny doesn't know how." Dylan replied.

"Yeah, I can!" Johnny snapped loudly, growling at his older brother. Sam worried the boy would be heard through the whole diner, and tried to shush him.

"But Dylan said I don't know how to read! He's lying!"

"Okay! Okay, you can read. Here, read your menu, that'll show him, then we won't have to yell about it," Sam said quickly.

Johnny opened up his colorful paper menu and began to list foods. Some of the foods he mentioned were not actually on the menu, but if Sam's instincts regarding education were correct, the attempt was still to be encouraged, "Good. That's really good reading, Johnny. So, you want grilled cheese? What else?"

"Cake."

"I meant like a vegetable?"

"Carrot cake."

"Okay," Sam said, "I'm going to get the grilled chicken and a salad, so I can stay healthy, and if you get, like, some broccoli, or potatoes with the grilled cheese, then cake would be fine, after. I'm sure your mom has rules like that, right?"

Dylan huffed. "If you eat vegetables, you don't have room for cake."

The waitress came back with their drinks. "They are so cute! What grades are they in?"

Sam nearly panicked as he balked, genuinely having no idea. Thankfully Johnny mispronounced kindergarten just well enough to distract her. The thought suddenly surfaced in Sam's mind that here he was, in the middle of nowhere, with two kids who had no idea they were at all related to him, attempting to book it across state lines. And he had met them only the day before yesterday.

Yep, that didn't sound suspicious at all.

* * *

Castiel shifted in the bucket seat in the middle row of the minivan, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't horrible, but it certainly wasn't flying. Not that he minded, as Melissa and Dean were both there, and that was a comforting thought. He looked at Dean, who was very still, his breathing deep and even with sleep.

Melissa continued to drive. They were in Dallas now, and she pulled into an underground garage below the Faulkner Corporation offices. She pulled into a reserved spot, hanging a normally stowed placard from the rearview mirror. Time spent in the glove box of a vehicle that spent most of its time in the Texas sun had misshapen it, leaving a curve, but the information still showed clearly.

She pulled down her visor, opening a small mirror and repaired the damage tears had done to her makeup.

Castiel watched her small, perfectionist movements. She never seemed to notice, and unless and until she did, he would observe. She would brush her hair, tie it back or pin it up, or perhaps just remove the snarls before she went to sleep. Her eye makeup, a delicate blending of colors, or her lipstick, one he truly preferred to see applied... there was something about the way she did these things, it felt as though it should have been done in private, just between her and her mirror, that made his heart race. As if the only decent behavior would be to look away, and so he followed her every move... Certainly, if his gaze bothered her, she would have asked- no, told him to look away, or leave. Otherwise, he concluded, she either didn't mind, didn't notice, or secretly enjoyed his watchful gaze. The last option intrigued him.

She closed the mirror, and put her concealer back into her purse, then reached over to smack Dean lightly on the upper arm. "You coming, or you want to sit in the van?"

"No, no, I'm good," Dean replied, sitting up, "I'm with you. What are we doing?"

"Guardianship papers. That way, if I don't make it to Alabama, my brother won't have any trouble proving the kids are supposed to be in his care. Makes things easier for school, doctor's visits, that kind of thing... Also gives him complete control of the corporation, should my dead body turn up."

Dean was still a little groggy from the nap, but suddenly had an intense urge to hug her, and tell her she was going to be fine. He shut that shit down immediately. "Okay, well, anything you need to do, we're with you. Right, Cas?"

Castiel's eyes landed distractedly on Dean's face, before turning back to Melissa with a nod, "Yes. We're with you."

* * *

Sam felt exhausted. Mentally he compared the argument concerning the vegetables to the act of exorcism. He wasn't sure which one was more taxing. He had convinced the children that vegetables were the reason he was so 'big and strong,' resulting in a few bites from each of them. Still, very tiring.

He walked them to the door of the diner, at which point they took off running around the corner of the building to the place where he had parked the Impala. He hurried to catch up, but the moment he rounded the corner, he heard a familiar voice with a familiar accent, chilling him to the bone.

"Hello, _little_ boys..."

* * *

Finally back in the parking garage, Melissa shed her blazer right before she got in the van. Dean was surprised that without the blazer and missing a couple of hairpins, she suddenly went back to looking like herself. The same caring, innocent person he had grabbed by the mouth, placing a gun to her head just two days ago.

She threw the blazer into the back seat as she got in, her just-past-shoulder-length hair giving a swing.

"North, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, head for Kansas. Cas," he said, turning to where Castiel was settling himself, "How much distance did this stop cost us?"

"Not much, it's still moving slowly, but it is aware of where we are."

"Okay, maybe we should put a few miles behind us before we find a spot to stop for the night," Dean replied.

"We're not going to drive straight through?" Melissa asked.

"Well, uh, we could, I wasn't sure you'd be up to it. Tell you what, head north on I-35, and when you get tired, we'll switch." Dean said.

Melissa shrugged, not answering. If Dean had to hazard a guess, he would suppose she was already very tired. Emotionally, at least, she had to be nearing a breaking point, she was a civilian, after all. She had certainly put on the bravest of faces, but he wasn't sure she had much more in her.

* * *

"Boys, get straight into the car, don't talk to him. He's dangerous," Sam warned quickly, torn between stepping ahead of the children, or steering them to the rear door of the car.

"Sam, please. If I were going to do anything to these delightful darlings, I would have done it when you left the table to powder your nose." Crowley said. "Really, it's a wonder they were still there when you came back. Children so precious as these must be protected ever so carefully."

He held out a tootsie pop in each hand, offering them to the children, and Dylan stepped closer to Johnny as if to discourage the younger boy from lifting his hand. Sam stepped forward, "No. Don't trust him, get in the car, now."

Sam didn't like hearing a demanding order coming out of his mouth. He felt that he sounded just like his father. Thankfully, the voice that bothered him so much seemed to be effective, and the children scrambled past Crowley, ignoring the treats, buckling into their seats and watching urgently through the window.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Sam asked directly.

"To keep my throne," Crowley emphasized each word. "I can't do that if Lucifer comes out to play. These dear poppets need to be kept under lock and key. The boot might be safer for them, if that demon trap is still intact."

Sam looked confused, "What does this have to do with Lucifer?"

"My intel people tell me these two brothers not only carry Winchester blood, but also Campbell blood. That's a rare combination, far more useful than, say, Milligan? Now think hard - who might cross your moosey mind as wanting to gain hold of them?"

"Anyone wanting to open the cage and try again." Sam answered, horrified, "Who?"

"A few dissident malcontents from each faction, possibly working together. I know that they are currently chasing after mummy dearest, which is about as productive as a thumb in each end and playing switch, but if they figure it out, they'll be after the children straight away. So get them out of here. And know this: should your mother-quest plan fail, I'll be coming for the children myself." Crowley stated, then vanished.

Sam jumped into the driver's seat, pulling out of the parking lot as fast as he could as he retrieved his phone. At the risk of the children hearing, he used voice-to-text to send Dean a message.

* * *

Dean's phone chirped once again. 'Crowley says dissenters want them for another go at a final battle. If they find her, they'll head my way. Move fast.'

"Melissa... you about ready for some dinner?" Dean tried to fake a yawn.

"I'm not really hungry," Melissa said quietly.

"Maybe we get some drive-thru, and I'll take over for a while. If you stop driving for a bit, you might be ready to eat." Dean hoped he sounded convincing.

"How the hell am I supposed to eat at a time like this?" she asked, "Or are you just jaded enough that this doesn't scare the hell out of you?"

Dean shrugged, "Well, I mean, we're not a hundred percent sure what we're dealing with, here. It might not be as bad as some of the thing we've been up against. This might be a lot less than what we usually have to deal with."

Melissa took a deep breath, and her words came layered with irritation and anger, "My _children's_ lives are at stake... Do you have any clue what that's putting me through, right now? Their father was turned into a chunky red spray while they were sleeping in the next room. Unless you have kids, you will never understand what this is doing to me, got it?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah... Sorry, you're right. I mean, I've been through some shit, but... Well, one part I do get, it's easier to handle taking this stuff head-on instead of watching it happen to somebody you love... And kids, man, that is... I'm sorry... But then again, if you don't eat, you won't have the energy to keep going, so, y'know, taking care of them means you still have to take care of yourself. And I'm not trying to be a jerk about this, but, you look beat."

He watched silently out the corner of his eye as Melissa's glowering slowly loosened to an unhappy admittance of her own limitations.

"Yeah, okay," she said softly, "What's good, and not too far off the road?"

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Quick warning - Uncomfortable subject matter. Will be far more intense in the beginning of the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I had surgery today, so I'm gonna be a mess for a while, drugged up and bedbound. Nothing to do but write and rewrite. Woot!
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Reluctant to speed with children in the car, and distracted by the constant drone of noise coming from the bored little boys in the back seat, Sam made it to Carthage, Texas before he had to stop for the night. He dragged in the suitcase, his duffel, and a bag of weapons, including protective charms.

The boys stumbled into the room, tired of sitting in the car for the better part of the day. Pajamas and brushing teeth had never seemed like they could be such an ordeal, and Sam couldn't help but feel some sympathy for his father's experience of caring for himself and his brother.

He finally got them each into a bed, the bathroom light left on because Dylan felt nervous, and ran out once again to get some very specific and desperately needed stuffed animal from the car.

All Sam wanted was to stretch out on the couch and get a couple of hours, was that too much to ask? Evidently, yes, because Johnny was out of bed again, quiet as a mouse, and standing right next to him. "I need a story."

"Johnny, I need to sleep now. So do you. Go get in your bed."

"But I can't sleep without a story."

"I want a story, too. With caterpillars and goats. Maybe and some goaterpillars." Dylan piped up from his bed.

Sam was on his last straw. If it wasn't one being needy, it was the other being weird as hell. They seemed to tag team him.

"No. Go to sleep." Sam lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

After a little while, Johnny had gotten back into his bed, he heard him crying. It was the quiet kind, clearly not seeking any sort of attention, but attempting not to be heard. He felt bad for the kid, none of this was fair to them, but he had no idea what he was doing. Dean could have fixed it, but Dean was, hopefully, halfway to the bunker getting chased down by psychos trying to restart the apocalypse.

He lifted himself onto an elbow, searching for words to calm the child and get him to rest, but instead, he watched as Dylan got out of his own bed and climbed in with Johnny.

Sam lay back down, listening to quiet whispers drifting over from across the room.

"I want mom."

"Me too, but it's gonna be okay."

"What about the scary guy?"

"He won't get us. Sam has guns."

"I want a gun."

"No, you're too little. But maybe I can get a gun. I'll ask Sam in the morning, then I'll keep us safe."

It struck Sam heavily how deeply and how negatively the children had been impacted by the same life he'd been living since before he could walk. It wasn't healthy, it wasn't good, and it had to be particularly harmful to children.

He shook his head. Not even an entire day, and already these kids were being fucked up from this crap.

A fresh wave of a combination of heartache, and also a deep appreciation for Dean hit Sam strongly as he attempted to sleep.

* * *

Castiel had finally talked Melissa into allowing Dean to drive, and trying to get some sleep. Thankfully, she didn't leave the back row of the minivan up, and it was quite flat in the back. With her diminutive height, she would be able to rest without a problem.

Castiel sat in the passenger seat, where he'd moved after she'd squeezed through to the back, occasionally taking a look over his shoulder at her, between the two bucket seats in the middle row.

Dean must have been waiting to make certain she was actually sleeping, because when Castiel stopped paying attention to her, he sped up.

"I don't like the sound coming from the transmission," Dean said quietly, in a strained version of a conversational manner. "Remind me to look it over when we get to the bunker. It'll give me something to do while you and Sam find a way to hide those kids permanently."

Dean took out his phone, turning on the screen to Sam's last message. He passed it to Castiel. "That look about right to you?"

"This is terrible news," Castiel answered. "Hopefully drawing them off will make finding the children more difficult once the distraction is realized for what it is."

Dean looked at the gauges and the empty freeway ahead of him. Time to see how much he could open it up.

A few hours later, Castiel was staring out the window, waiting for the sunrise. Dean didn't seem to feel like talking. He was vaguely aware of Melissa beginning to wake. They were about 30 miles from the bunker.

"What the hell?! Slow down!" Melissa ordered, having climbed into the seat behind him. Dean jolted, swerving just slightly.

"Are you trying to make me crash?" Dean yelled over his shoulder.

"A blow out at this speed, and we'd crash anyway! What the hell is wrong with you? You topped out the speedometer."

Dean shook his head, "Look, we'll be somewhere safe soon, you can yell at me then. But we got an idea what's after you, and it's bad. I'm not waiting around for it to catch up."

"Stop, I'll drive."

"No."

"...What?" Melissa demanded, acid in her voice.

"I said no. I'm not pulling over."

"It's my fucking van, asshole."

Castiel was beginning to feel intense agitation. "Dean..." he warned.

Dean looked over at him. He knew that look, Castiel was holding himself back.

"Stopping at all puts us in danger. The ones who are after your kids, they could be waiting anywhere. We stop, we take a risk. They see you without the kids, they notice Sam isn't here, they go straight for your kids, probably doing anything they can to get the location out of us. So we keep driving, and keep you alive. As long as they don't realize they're coming after you, they don't go after the kids." Dean waited a moment before taking another look at Castiel. No longer fearing a punch to Dean's face, the weakened angel seemed only a bit stressed.

Dean was tempted to look at Melissa, but decided it would be better to turn the conversation. "Is this sticker right?" he asked, pointing to the small oil-change reminder in the upper corner of the windshield.

"What?" Melissa asked tiredly.

"You're way overdue."

"Whatever, I top it up."

"It's bad for the engine."

"Well, unlike some people, I don't plan to keep this van until it's fifty years old," Melissa answered with a healthy dose of snark.

"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of it. We've got a decent garage." Dean said.

"Yeah, I'll think about it." Melissa answered.

* * *

Sam woke up, still tired, and with a small figure staring at him in the dim light. The sun hadn't yet risen, and faint light was filtering through the curtains. Due to the short, slim stature of the child, he was immediately reminded of an alien from an abduction story on television.

"I had a bad dream," Dylan's voice came out heavy with sleep.

"Yeah? What was it?" Sam asked, sitting up. He quickly remembered the resolution he'd formed the night before, regretting any part he may have had in the stress weighing on the kids, deciding to attempt to handle things not as he thought he should, but as he thought Bobby would have done.

"I was eating frogs with Johnny because they were too loud, and then this guy came out and chased us with a big weird knife." Dylan rubbed his eyes, and climbed onto Sam's lap without an invitation. Sam awkwardly tried to pat his back, still very unsure of himself, rubbing his own eyes with his other hand.

"What did the knife look like?" he asked.

"You know how knives have two sides and they're flat? The weird knife was triangley." Dylan leaned into Sam's shoulder for a minute.

Sam put an arm around Dylan as his mind took a moment to process the description, "You're okay, but if you see anyone with a knife like that, or any knife, you run, okay? Well, except for Cas, he has one, but most people who have those aren't safe."

Dylan nodded and climbed off Sam's lap. "What are we going to eat for breakfast?"

Sam shrugged. "What do you want?"

Johnny stretched and yawned in the bed. "I want pot roast."

* * *

The remainder of the ride to the bunker had been mostly silent. Dean parked the van in the garage and started taking luggage into the living area, explaining the Men of Letters, and the things that made the bunker so hard to find to Melissa, as Castiel began walking around, checking to make certain everything was still warded properly.

Dean had just left Melissa to settle into a spare room when his phone rang. "Hey, Sam, what's going on?"

"Just made it to Nacogdoches, finally. Listen, Dylan had a bad dream, he said someone was chasing him and Johnny with a big knife. He said it was 'triangley,' and not flat."

"An angel blade." Dean guessed immediately.

"Exactly. Hang on... yeah, I know, but you said you want pot roast, so that's IHOP or Denny's, they don't... no, I don't want to hug your bear... Can you wait?... Okay, Dean, I have to go, maybe ask Melissa and Cas if that's normal, if maybe he's seen one before, otherwise this could be a really bad sign. Catch you later."

"Later." Dean said, hanging up. He turned to Castiel who had just appeared at his side. "Dylan had a nightmare that someone was chasing him and Johnny with something that sounds an awful lot like an angel blade."

"That's unfortunate, but not completely unexpected," Castiel said thoughtfully, "He has some mild psychic tendencies. Most children with such gifts are often considered to have an overactive imagination."

"Is that why he acts weird?"

"What do you mean?" Castiel said, genuinely waiting for a response.

Dean was about to respond, but considered who he was speaking to, and thought the better of it. "Nevermind... How about you and Melissa just try and get an idea where the danger is, so we can keep tabs on it."

Castiel nodded and wandered off, and Dean made his way to the library, grabbing his laptop on the way.

* * *

Melissa sat on the edge of the well-worn bed in the small room Dean had brought her to. She had meant to start unpacking, but realizing she wasn't also making a place for her children, her will drained out of her. She put her knees on her elbows and dropped her face into her hands, too tired from the all-night drive to even cry.

When she looked up, Castiel was standing in the doorway.

"Are you alright?" he asked. He walked into the room to sit next to her.

She shook her head. "I'm tired, scared, and worried sick, my babies are with someone I really don't know, their father is dead, I'm all they've got and they don't even have me... And I've purposely made something follow me that will probably kill me when it finds me, then it's going after my kids, and I don't have a good goddamn clue how to stop it."

"I am very sorry to say, that is actually fairly normal for your bloodline in the last few decades," Castiel said.

"Yeah, and it sucks." Dean's voice came from the doorway, he had a few printed papers in one hand, which he was staring at, and a sandwich in the other hand, which he seemed to be cramming into his mouth in as few bites as possible. He continued to stare at the paper and chew as he asked, "What kind of oil does your van take?"

"Dean, this may not be the best time," Castiel said.

Dean, still engrossed in both papers and sandwich, shrugged, mumbled something about it being on the cap, and continued walking.

Castiel turned back to Melissa, finding her looking at the now empty doorway. "Why is he messing with my van?" she asked softly.

"He won't damage it," Castiel assured her.

* * *

Dean squeezed out from under the jacked up minivan, knocking the oil collection pan in the process. A significant spill sloshed out of the side away from him as he reached for a flashlight. He slid back underneath, about to close it up, and begin refilling.

"Didja break it, yet?" Melissa's voice came from nearby.

"I don't break cars," Dean said, not sure how to follow that.

"Castiel said you wanted to know how close these creeps are getting, looks to be a ways off, and searching more than tracking. So, it's slowed down, but still coming." Melissa said, moving around the side of the van.

"Good," Dean answered. "Anything that slows them down gives us time to figure out how to take them out, and Sam-"

Melissa had unwittingly stepped into some of the motor oil, and slipped, landing hard on her ass next to the van, scraping her back on the latch of the open door as she fell. The back of her shirt had ripped as well.

Dean turned to look at where she had fallen. She had landed on her side with her back to him. "You okay?"

Through the rip, he could see her back as she started to get up. Aside from a long red line, he also noticed old scars over the right side of her lower back, crossing her pale skin with jagged edges and creating three designs between her waistband and bra band.

She sat up, "Yeah, no worse for wear."

As she righted herself, Dean realized one of the scars was an anti-possession symbol, and as he lay under the van, it was right side up to him, which could only mean it was oriented sideways on her body. Something wasn't right.

Dean slid out from under the van, grabbing a rag. Melissa was on her feet now, headed for the door.

"Hold up, c'mere, you're bleeding." Melissa attempted to keep walking. Dean didn't like how quickly her eyes darted back to the door.

"Castiel can fix it." she muttered.

Dean caught her arm, and she froze, staring at the ground, a reaction he found alarming. He lifted the hem of her shirt to the middle of her back. "Okay, it's not so bad," he said, paying far more attention to the old scars than to the wound, "We'll clean it out and bandage it up. You had a tetanus shot in the last 5 years?"

Dean was stalling. Aside from the very hastily carved anti-possession symbol, were two other symbols he didn't recognize at all, that also appeared to be sideways. There were only a couple drops of blood coming from her minor injury, mostly it was a welt, and there would be no need for further attention once Castiel had supplied a quick tap, but Dean noticed she didn't answer, and she didn't move.

Melissa was still staring at the ground, and trying not to move.

"Hey!" Dean immediately regretted speaking loudly, because although he was trying to get her to snap out of it, he only succeeded in making her flinch into a stifled cringe, a sign of past abuse in anyone, or anything. He tried to proceed with a softer voice. "What happened to you?"

Melissa didn't move. "I don't want to talk about it."

Dean nodded. "Okay, then we won't talk about it. We'll go get Cas to heal you."

She still didn't move. Dean tossed the rag back over to where the tools still lay on the floor, and put his arms around Melissa's shoulders, pulling her close, careful to avoid the scrape.

It was like she wasn't even in there. She had shut down. He thought back to Castiel's nightmare. _Stop cutting me..._

Dean wanted to ask so many questions. He released one arm and began to guide her through the halls. Sure enough, Castiel appeared, already on his way to them.

"Cas, good timing. Can you heal her back?" Dean asked, attempting to make it sound like no big deal.

"Only the most recent wound, the others are permanent." Dean could have kicked him for that one. Instead he just let go of Melissa and stepped out of the way while Castiel reached for her.

"Okay, so she's probably going to go get cleaned up, oil stains set fast, so why don't you come help me finish up with the van." Dean said.

Castiel followed him to the garage. He could could tell Melissa was moving through the halls again as they walked.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: TRIGGERS: Cuts, torture, abuse. Nothing you wouldn't see on the show, but brace yourself. Mentions, not graphic.
> 
> As much as I love the John Winchester character, this is what fits for this story. It sucks, but it works.
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Dean came back out from under the van and started putting oil into the top of the engine. His motions were still brusque and his mood difficult to discern.

"So... You wanna explain to me about those scars on Melissa's back?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged slightly, "They're sigils."

"I know they're sigils," Dean snapped, "Why are they there?"

Castiel seemed uncomfortable with the question. "As you already know, one is a standard anti-possession symbol. One is to prevent her from being able to make deals with demons regarding her soul, and the other anchors her soul to her body, unless the flesh comprising the mark deteriorates or is burned."

"So when she dies, she's... What? Stuck inside her body until she's cremated, or the skin decomposes?"

Castiel looked away, "It's not a pleasant thought, I know."

Dean set down the empty oil bottle and picked up a new one. His voice was quiet, but Castiel could hear him just fine. "My dad did this to her, didn't he?"

"Yes," Castiel admitted, looking him in the eye.

"Because he thought that she was a witch."

Castiel nodded.

Dean wiped his forehead with his wrist. He shook his head, clearly furious... "Why are they sideways?"

"He used chloroform to render her unconscious, it doesn't last very long. She was waking up and he had to move quickly, so, as he was standing next to the table-"

Dean cut him off. "Shut up. I don't want to hear any more... You know what I did in Hell, Cas. I know those jagged edges means she was struggling... It's sick. I mean, who could hurt their child like that?"

Castiel wasn't sure if he should try to answer the question, "Each of those symbols were to prevent her from eventually becoming a demon, as happens to most witches. He didn't know what she was,-"

"She was what, fourteen, fifteen? Did he try to talk to her, at all?"

"Dean..." Castiel was at a loss for words. "He was wrong. I won't argue that."

Dean sat down next to the tools. "And that one that keeps her in her body even if she dies, there's no way to break that for her?"

"None that I've been able to find, and I have been looking. It has to do with the ingredients that were infused into the wounds-" Castiel stopped speaking as a wrench flew from Dean's hand, went across the room, and landed square in the middle of the windshield of one of the antique cars long forgotten by the Men of Letters. Pieces of the shattering glass went flying.

Dean shook his head, "This is just like him, man. Do the first thing that comes to mind, and ask questions later... She deserved better than this... And then what happens, if she dies? How long would that take, anyway? Does she know? About the kind of nightmare she's got waiting for her?"

"She has some idea, yes."

* * *

Sam had run out of road trip games to try to teach them, and the children had begun to amuse themselves by yelling insults at each other. Then the kicking started. The kicking ended with one of the children grabbing a shoe off of the other's foot, and hurling it past Sam's head onto the dashboard.

Sam pulled over at the first wide spot in the road and got out of the car. On instinct, he went straight to the trunk. When he realized the idea of zip-tying all four of their collective feet together was an entirely too tempting manner of making the kicking stop, he made himself close the trunk. Dousing them with holy water was still an option...

He got back into the car, and was surprised to be met with complete silence, "Okay. You guys are bored. Really, really bored. I get it. Riding in a car for days, it's awful. What do you want to do?"

The boys looked at him with wide eyes.

"No ideas? Really?"

Dylan looked upset, "Are you going to leave us if we don't act right?"

"What? No!" Sam was incredulous. "Who leaves kids? Kids can't be left by themselves, it's against the law. I was just stretching my legs."

"Our dad said he was going to mail us to China to sew soccer balls," Johnny fussed, then the tears started as his small face twisted into an emotional mess, "Now he's dead, and he can't mail us anywhere ever again!"

Sam slowly turned to face forward. He was sure this was all Dean's fault, somehow, he was just too frazzled to figure out why. He pulled out his phone, looking for any nearby children's entertainment venue that didn't have clowns.

* * *

Castiel had sat quietly next to Melissa's sleeping form for about two hours when strange noises coming from the kitchen drew his interest.

It seemed the more he spoke, the worse the outburst had become, so he thought leaving Dean to process his thoughts would be beneficial.

As he entered the kitchen, Dean was on the floor, back against a cabinet door, barefoot, a quarter full liquor bottle in one hand, and phone to his ear, "Sam... listen. You're not answering... Pick up the phone, bitch, we gotta talk about dad."

Dean ended the call, tossing the phone to the middle of the floor. His head rolled to the side to address Castiel, "What? You got more shit to tell me about how fucked up this is?"

"No, Dean. I think you're up to speed about how fucked up it is."

Dean laughed at Castiel's halting attempt to reuse his words, "No... No, Cas, I never am. Because every time I think maybe I've hit the limit of how bad things get, it gets worse. And then it gets worse again. But now I find out she's in there, trying to lay down her life for her kids, and this is what her life has been like? And how it's gonna end?"

Castiel shrugged slightly, unable to respond.

Dean straightened up where he sat, "I got it all figured out, now, Cas. Sammy stood up to dad because I would never let dad take him down a peg. Never. So Melissa, ...and Adam, only children... basically."

Castiel pulled Dean from the floor, "You're inebriated."

Dean's breath contained obvious fumes as he slurred directly into Castiel's face in an attempt to speak quietly. His voice cracked, "I would have protected them, Cas."

"I know, Dean."

"Sammy would have protected them, too. I could have taught him how to be a big brother. That's how it's supposed to work."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean looked as though there were more ramblings slowly making their way to the forefront of his mind, but the suggestion of sleep had been strong enough that he headed for his bed.

Castiel was relieved when Dean left the room. In his opinion, it was a good thing the bunker didn't have many windows, as it was only the middle of the afternoon.

* * *

Sam hadn't been able to hear his phone, as the indoor playground had been quite loud. He had never seen one of these places before, and it was very new. There were a few classic video games, both healthy and unhealthy items on the menu at the snack bar, and coin-operated massage chairs.

The children had run around for two hours straight, only stopping to ask for soda and pizza. Sam had talked them down to sports drinks when he realized they were sweating from running and climbing so much. There was also Wi-Fi, which made Sam further regret not having time to grab his laptop when leaving the bunker, not that he'd have much to research.

Hoping to put a few more miles behind him before having to stop for the night, Sam rounded up the children multiple times, and eventually got them into the car.

He checked his phone before getting in, finding six missed calls from Dean, two of which had voicemails. Not wanting to waste time, he called back instead of checking them.

"Dean? What's going on? Are you okay?" His words spilled out as soon as the call was answered.

"Dean is fine, Sam." Castiel's voice came through, "He's been drinking, and he's upset, but in a few hours, he'll be back to normal."

"What's he upset about?"

"He saw the symbols on Melissa's back, and guessed correctly about how they got there."

Sam nodded out of habit, "Well, let Melissa know we stopped so the kids could have some fun and stretch, we should be able to make it to Chase's house by tomorrow evening if the traffic is good. Oh, and, uh, Johnny scraped his knee but he's fine now, and Dylan wants to grow up to be a shark that eats dynamite."

"I will give her the message," Castiel assured him.

* * *

Dean had been on the way to his room, bottle still in hand, but stopped at Melissa's open door. She was sleeping on her side. She had changed her clothes, so the rip in the back of her shirt and the oil stains on her jeans were gone.

She didn't look so shaken up now, just small. He thought back to her face, when she had flinched at the sound of his voice.

"Melissa?" he spoke without thinking. Should have just kept walking. What was he doing? Well, whiskey will cloud your judgment.

She raised her head to turn to look at him, confused, and a bit disoriented.

He stumbled a bit as he crossed the floor of the small room, and sat down next to the bed, leaning back against the nightstand. "Here, you want some?"

Melissa took the bottle from him, setting it on the nightstand behind his head, "No, but you've probably had enough." She sat up, dropping her legs over the side of the bed. "What's up?"

"I'm sorry... I don't think sometimes, and I was freaking out, and I hope I didn't scare you. But I had no right, you were walking away from me, and whatever marks you have on you are your business, not mine. I was an asshole... and I'm sorry."

Melissa shook her head, "It happens, don't worry about it."

Dean wanted to change the subject as fast as possible. "You know what pisses me off? I didn't get to go to your wedding. I bet that was a fun party."

Melissa was still a little sleepy, "What?"

"Yeah," Dean continued, "I mean, I know you got divorced, but what was your wedding like?"

"You didn't miss much." Melissa answered, rubbing her face, "My ex, well, his mom was in some weird kind of health nut cult, so we had no barbecue, which I wanted, some light classical string music, but no dancing, and no alcohol at all, so basically it was unbearable. Even the cake sucked."

Dean reached clumsily for the bottle as she spoke. "Yeah, but I bet you looked pretty." He paused to take a swig. "You find somebody else, somebody better for you, and gives a damn what you want, really. And I will be there, barbecue, booze, all kinds of fun, but you have to save me a dance."

He handed her the bottle again. She kept it in her hands this time. "Uh, okay, sure. On the off chance that I ever remarry, not likely... I'll save you a dance."

"That's all I'm asking." Dean slurred, "So, this whole saint thing. That's weird, huh? Any perks with that, aside from the grace thing?"

Melissa shrugged, "I have no idea."

Castiel appeared in the doorway, holding Dean's phone. "Johnny had a small skin injury on his knee, but he is well, and Dylan wishes to become a carnivorous sea creature and consume explosives. Sam said they are having a good time."

"Did Crowley show up again?" Dean asked.

"He didn't mention Crowley."

"Who's Crowley?" Melissa asked as Dean took the bottle from her hands.

"The king of Hell. I know, your church isn't big on that one, but I've been there. Literally. It's like... another dimension." Dean said.

"Wouldn't the king of Hell be Satan?"

"Not anymore, but he's there too. Except he still goes by Lucifer. Protip: Don't talk about Lucifer around Sam. Lucifer is an even bigger dick than our dad." Dean took another swig. "Hey, I got an idea..."

Dean attempted to jump to his feet, stumbling heavily into Castiel, taking his phone, and shoving the bottle into Castiel's hands as he went. "You crazy kids need to cut loose, I'll see you later..."

Castiel watched Dean busy himself out of the room, bare feet slapping the floor as he went.

"Is he an alcoholic?" Melissa asked pointedly.

"I'm sure he can stop anytime he wants." Castiel deadpanned.

Melissa blinked. "Was that a joke?"

"Sorry. I understand humor better now, but I'm still not very good at it." Castiel replied as he sat down next to her.

Melissa took the bottle from his hands, wiping off the lip before taking an experimental swig, and finding it both strong and to her liking, took a deeper drink before setting it down again. She leaned against him, her head on his shoulder, clearly seeking comfort, and asked quietly, "How's my van?"

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Trigger warning!! There is passing mention of a past-tense child's death and funeral in this one.)

* * *

Sam got the boys into the hotel room without spreading the mess too badly. They had stopped for dinner not long ago, and there had been a mishap in the booth with a bottle of maple syrup. He felt confident he could get the clothes rinsed out well enough in the motel sink, but the children wouldn't do without a proper wash.

"Okay guys, how does your mom do bath time for you?" Sam thought back to a funeral he'd attended during college. Jess had had a three-year-old niece who drowned in a bathtub after it had been left to drain. He was uncomfortable with the whole idea of bathing children as he had no experience with it, but he'd come to the conclusion there was no getting around it.

"She just tells me, 'Dylan, go take a shower, 'cuz you smell like a walking armpit.' For Johnny, she puts him in the tub and leaves the door open, then she goes back and washes his hair, then he can play until the water gets cold." Dylan explained.

"Okay, that was very helpful. Thank you. You go ahead and take the first shower, and make sure to get all the syrup off." Sam said.

Johnny turned the TV on to cartoons as Dylan went to the bathroom.

Sam proceeded to prepare the room as he did every other time he stopped in a hotel. When he finished, he realized he was actually getting into the plot of the cartoon, and sat down to watch.

He sent Dean a text during a commercial break. 'Dude, check online for a cartoon called Ben 10, the kids are getting me hooked'

Dylan came out of the bathroom a bit later without a stitch of clothing. Sam got up to draw a bath for Johnny, carefully fixing his eyes to the ceiling and trying to pretend everything was perfectly normal as Dylan went to the suitcase for his clothes without a care in the world, and found water covering most of the bathroom floor. Thankfully Dylan had ditched his mostly dry towel in the middle of the puddle.

Sam did what he could to sop up the water, still silently cursing Dean in his mind. On the other hand, had Castiel stayed with the kids, they might have been cleaned up with a quick tap on the head, so Castiel was also on his list. And maybe Melissa, too, for apparently failing to explain the importance of pants to her children.

* * *

Castiel accompanied Melissa to the garage, where the disarray hadn't changed. She finished adding the new oil to the van until the dipstick showed the correct amount, and closed it up.

He decided to give her a more in-depth tour of the bunker so she wouldn't get lost.

As they turned a corner, he noticed a door open, and it dawned on him what Dean might have been up to.

"Wait here," Castiel stated in a loud whisper.

He approached the room without her. The shelves had indeed been pulled aside, and Dean had in fact done what Castiel feared.

"Castiel, I was wondering where you were. Couldn't be far, I know. Your little boyfriend here has been drunk-summoning me." Crowley drawled from the chair in the middle of the room.

"I told you, you help us, we let you go. You don't want to lose on this one either." Dean was still slurring, but not stumbling as much.

"You could have just called." Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well... Maybe I like to watch you squirm." Dean looked at Castiel. "I know! I know, but hear me out... I... I don't remember the rest..."

Crowley was too silent all of a sudden, and not paying attention to either of them. His eyes were fixed on the space between them in a startled look, as something had caught him by surprise. It wasn't something they'd had seen on Crowley's face very often, and certainly never without cause. Castiel and Dean both turned to see the barest slight of Melissa peeking out from around the shelf nearest the door.

Dean went straight for her, "You shouldn't be in here, it's not safe."

"Holy mother, what are you?" Crowley spoke, drawing his words out slowly and softly, but loud enough to fill the room. There was a cold tone to his voice that chilled Dean's blood, stopping him in his tracks, "You are a darling thing, aren't you? The children's mother, and a decoy, certainly, but what else?"

Castiel shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the idea of Crowley knowing anything about Melissa or the children.

Dean took Melissa by the shoulders, carefully, despite the alcohol making his steps clumsy, leading her swiftly out into the hall.

"Is that him?" she whispered, "The king of Hell?"

"Yeah, and he already knows too much about you. I need you to stay away from him, please." Dean wobbled a moment, and turned her to look at him. "I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe and get information to keep your kids safe, but this guy would kill you without a thought, or worse, and I need to know you hear me on this."

"Yeah, okay. I'll just, I guess, give you space for whatever you're going to do, I'm going to go make some dinner... Does that guy eat?" Melissa asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nah, he's a demon. Just us and maybe Cas."

After another suspicious glance at the doorway, she nodded and walked away as Dean went back inside.

Crowley was oddly silent. Dean looked at Castiel, who was visibly infuriated, not at all how Dean had left him, "Cas? ...What happened?"

"I ask one innocent question about a sweet young lady-"

"Hardly innocent," Castiel growled.

"And he makes me out to be some perverted predator. Really. I'm only trying to make conversation."

"What did you want to know?" Dean asked cooly.

Crowley opened his mouth to answer, but then shrugged, smirking at Castiel. "Well, let's just say, by his reaction, I get the feeling he might be able to answer what _had been_ a hypothetical question."

Dean was still a bit drunk, but didn't trust Castiel to stay calm. "We'll see you in a while, Crowley. Maybe by then, you'll be on better behavior."

Dean led Castiel out of the room, closing the door, and heading down the hallway. "Cas, man, you know you can't react to anything around Crowley. Any reaction gives him power over you. Not smart. Was she upset with me? Is that why you looked like you were about to rip him one?"

"Melissa isn't upset at all. The reaction was mine alone."

Dean decided that didn't sound good.

* * *

Sam managed to shampoo the child's hair without getting any in Johnny's eyes. Some had gotten in his own eyes, however, not that he was sure how that had happened.

He sat down on the couch and looked at the two kids sitting on the foot of one of the beds, staring at the TV. Dylan was poking the top of Johnny's head, and Johnny was slapping him on the knee each time he did. Neither seemed to notice they were doing this.

"You guys have to go to sleep soon," Sam told them.

Dylan looked up. "Only if you tell us a story."

"Uh... Okay, sure, I think I can do that... Get in your beds." Sam got up and turned off the TV. Dylan started to get under the covers, and Johnny quickly climbed in next to him.

"Don't you want your own bed?" Sam asked.

"No, you can use that one," Johnny answered.

Sam had to admit, the beds were certainly large enough for two children to fit comfortably, and he could easily member a time when he was roughly the same age, and felt safer with his own older brother close by, and decided not to argue. And the couch the night before hadn't been the best option for his large frame.

"Okay. Thanks." Sam sat down on the empty bed, facing the boys. He pulled out his phone, opening up an ebook app, and began to read them from a book about an eleven-year-old wizard.

Once the children had fallen asleep, which had been surprisingly fast, Sam stretched out on the empty bed and considered his evening. Maybe it wasn't as hard as it had seemed.

* * *

Castiel followed Dean to the garage and had helped him clean up the shattered glass and the tools left out on the floor. It had taken some time to get all of the glass cleaned up, and after cleaning up themselves, they headed for the kitchen.

Melissa was sitting at the table, looking at her phone, drinking a beer. In the middle of the table was an oversized pie of some kind, still cooling.

"What is that?" Dean asked, curiosity mostly coming from his stomach.

"Quiche Lorraine. Or, as close as I could get with what you had in here."

"Quiche, huh?" Dean asked, the confusion evident as he reassessed an old assumption which was currently at war with the sight and smell derived from the object on the table before him, "Looks like some kind of bacon and egg pie, like, I dunno, breakfast taco pie?"

"Yeah, that's what it is, pretty much to the letter."

"Really? Well, you won't hear any complaints from me." Dean got some plates and forks, a beer, and sat down at the table, "This smells amazing. I'll clean up the kitchen after dinner."

Dean dished up a slice for Melissa first, then shoved one in front of Castiel. Castiel looked up to say something, but Dean just jerked his head slightly towards Melissa, who wasn't paying attention.

Castiel quickly got the idea that Dean wanted him to eat even if he didn't need to right now, "Thank you for making the dinner pie, Melissa."

"Yeah, no problem..." Melissa continued to stare at her phone for a moment before setting it down, and actually noticing the slice of quiche in front of her. "My brother's getting things ready for the boys. I told him there were several death threats, and to trust anything Sam says, no matter how crazy, and the guardianship papers have already arrived."

Dean was too absorbed in the quiche to pay attention properly, but he tried, "Okay, uh, mm. That's good. I mean, that the papers are there."

"Are you sure that demon guy doesn't need food or water, or anything?" Melissa asked, taking a bite.

"Hmmnmm. He's fine. He's a jerk, too."

"Dean is correct, Crowley will require nothing, and he's very dangerous. The fact that he showed an interest in you is not a good thing." Castiel explained.

Dean shoved another large bite into his mouth, pointing at Castiel, and nodding, "Man, I thought quiche was supposed to be all fancy, and... I dunno, small?"

"You mean 'girly?'" Melissa asked.

Dean shook his head between bites, "I take it all back."

* * *

Castiel walked Melissa to her room as Dean proceeded to clean the kitchen as he'd promised, sobering quickly after a decent meal.

"I don't feel right about that guy being chained up in that room," she said softly. Unlike most people, she'd never had an inclination to hide her thoughts from Castiel.

"You shouldn't," he replied, "You aren't meant to see any form of suffering and willfully allow it to continue. But he is dangerous, and he may have information we can use. I may not agree with Dean bringing him here, exactly, but I understand his reasoning."

"Will you take him a glass of water?"

"He won't drink it."

"Please?"

Castiel relented, "I will, but only because I'm certain you would do it yourself if I don't."

"Thank you."

Castiel gave a small smile, then headed back to the kitchen.

Dean jumped a bit when Castiel appeared within his field of vision. "What's going on?"

"I have to take a glass of water to Crowley."

Dean gave him an odd, questioning look.

"I promised I would." Castiel sighed, reaching for a glass. "It's in her nature, she can't help it."

Dean thought for a moment as Castiel filled the glass. "If she knew Crowley the way we know him, would she still ask you to do this?"

"Yes, she would," Castiel replied without hesitation, "I think I'm gaining a deeper understanding of why most humans find holy beings to be so... devitalizing."

"Goody-two-shoes, sucking the fun out of life, making you do shit for no other reason than because it's the right thing to do?" Dean asked.

"You understand it well."

"Nope, not at all," Dean said, hanging up a dish towel he had been holding, "I'll go with you. Don't let him push your buttons this time."

Dean followed Castiel to the dungeon and opened the door for him. Crowley was sitting alone in the dark, dead center of the demon trap, exactly where they had left him, whistling Aime by Pure Prairie League.

"Back to visit already? My, this is much nicer than being left alone in here for days at a time. Can't say I was prepared for a conjugal, though," Crowley said. Dean figured he must be up to something. Unless he was up to nothing, and just trying to make him think he was up to something. He couldn't be sure.

Castiel stepped forward and passed Crowley the water glass.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

Castiel turned around again, having stepped outside of the circle, "She wanted to make sure we weren't being cruel to you, as far as she understands it. She asked me to give you some water... It's not holy water."

Crowley took a curious sip. "Nothing to write home about."

"Okay..." Dean stepped forward and took the glass, moving to place it on a shelf. "We all know how this works... You need to tell us everything you know about the demons, and/or angels who are after the kids."

"I want to talk to the girl," Crowley stated, ignoring everything Dean had just said. "That's no run of the mill human, and I want to know what's different."

Dean shook his head. "Not gonna happen."

Crowley turned to Castiel. "I'm sure you have some idea what she is. There's a purity to her soul you can nearly taste... Or maybe you have."

"That's my sister, Crowley," Dean spoke up, assuming Crowley either knew, or would find out soon enough. The comment had been average, even tame for the likes of Crowley, but normally he'd ignore Castiel as part of the scenery. It made Dean wonder what had been said earlier.

"That's fairly obvious. Has it penetrated Moose's thick skull yet?"

This was going nowhere. Dean turned to leave. "Goodnight, Crowley."

"Very well, I'll cooperate on a limited basis. You'll bring her back in here, and I'll answer three questions to the best of my ability. But then I'm free to go."

"Fine. In the morning." Dean answered, already making his way to the door.

Alone again in the dark room, Crowley rolled his eyes, "Bollocks."

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Still at it! There's a hint of a panic attack in this one, just so you know.)

* * *

The first thing Melissa was aware of as she woke was a warm hand threaded into her dark brown locks.

She'd become comfortable with Castiel's presence before he'd found an appropriate vessel, and after getting used to him in Jimmy Novak's body, it had been easy for her to remember the version of his existence she knew before. The change between wave-lengths of light, a faint voice on an unplugged radio, a bulb burning out, or the sudden feeling of a warm, heavy blanket were strongly echoed in his personality even now that he'd gained a human body, and she'd had no reason to see him as a smaller being, only as one with a more visible face.

At some point he'd begun learning about human boundaries, and had asked questions regarding her comfort and personal space, but she'd only shrugged them off.

It was far from being the first time she'd awoken to find him sitting next to her. But it was the first time she had woken up in the bunker, and the air was chilly.

She rolled slightly to look at the angel sitting with his back against the headboard. The windowless room was dark, but enough light came through the grate in the bottom of the door that she could make out his shape.

"What time is it?"

"It's five twenty-seven in the morning. I'm sure as you're used to daylight savings time and this particular time zone, I don't need to adjust it."

She turned over the rest of the way to face him as he shifted his hand on the pillow, so as her head turned her cheek rolled into his palm. He ran his thumb over her eyebrow, "Your dreams confused me."

"I don't remember what I was dreaming."

"You were standing on the side of a mountain overlooking a wide valley while singing Dona Nobis Pacem."

"That doesn't sound so weird, sounds kind of peaceful."

"You were wearing a giraffe costume."

"Okay, I'm awake," she said gruffly as she sat up, "And coffee is not optional. Jeez, does this place have heat? I'm freezing."

She pulled the blankets around her as best she could. Castiel touched her face again and suddenly she was warm, "Thanks."

"Dean made coffee, it's in the kitchen whenever you're ready."

Melissa pushed the blankets off and got out of the bed, turning on a lamp on the bedside table, and starting toward the closet where she had hung up most of the small selection of clothing she'd brought with her.

"Melissa, before you change your clothes, there's been a development."

Melissa turned around, rubbing one eye and raising an eyebrow. In the dim lamp light, she could see that Castiel had a book sitting open on his lap, "Yeah? What kind of development?"

"Crowley will only answer three questions, and only if you're in the room."

"But I only have to be there, right? And you and Dean can keep me safe."

Castiel took a marker out of one of his many pockets, holding it up in clear view. "I don't want to alarm you, but there are some protective sigils I'd prefer you have before this happens."

Melissa quickly shook her head, fighting back a grimace, "Castiel, please... I can't."

Castiel put the book down and stood slowly. She was trembling. "I am incapable of harming you, Melissa. And Crowley is dangerous, that is the only reason I would ask you to do this. It's just ink, it will wash away, nothing permanent. It's no different than applying your makeup. You can do this yourself."

Castiel put an arm around her, and offered her the marker. She attempted to take it, but she was shaking so hard it immediately slipped from her hand, clattering on the floor. "It's all right. Sit down," he said, guiding her to the edge of the bed.

He picked up the marker, resting his wrist on her knee, and drew a small symbol just below the hem of her pajama shorts. He looked up to her face. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was breathing into her hands, trying to keep from hyperventilating. "Is this one all right?" he asked.

Melissa opened her eyes as Castiel retrieved the book from the bed, and moved to kneel in front of her. Staring up at her from her thigh was a simple smiley face.

* * *

Dean looked up as Melissa followed Castiel into the kitchen, "'Morning. Where you been, Cas? I didn't think you still needed to sleep since you started getting recharged."

"I was in Melissa's room," Castiel answered, sitting down at the table. He noticed, but chose to ignore an odd, quizzical glance from Dean, who then turned it to Melissa for a brief second, and then back to Castiel with an involuntary noise in the back of his throat.

Melissa was busy getting coffee, and pretended not to hear any of it.

"Huh," Dean mused, shaking his head, and brought his attention back to his computer.

"What is it?" Castiel asked with genuine curiosity.

"Nothing. I was just wondering if you finally got the message about personal space with me, and moved on to crowding her, or if she's just more into cuddling with you than I am," Dean said.

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. He had certainly never attempted to cuddle Dean, "No... Before she dressed this morning, I wanted to-"

"Whoa! Nope! Not going there!" Dean said, loudly. He closed the laptop in front of him, tucking it under one arm and picked up his coffee with his other hand as he got up from his chair, turning to leave, "Look, I get that you guys have known each other for years, but even though I've only known she was my sister for a few days now, we are not discussing anything that happens, or might happen, in her bedroom."

"Sigils, jackass!" Melissa snapped as she turned around to face the table, "He was trying to protect me from Crowley."

Dean shrugged, "It doesn't take all night to draw a few sigils on someone. Now of course, that's your business, but I don't want to hear any more."

Melissa sat down, giving up on making sense of Dean's rambling, "So what's the plan?"

"Simple. We go in, you stay safely out of reach, and try to stay quiet because anything he can get out of you, he'll use against you at some point. I'll ask him the three questions, and then, after you're clear, we remind him to stay the hell away from you for his own good, and then we let him out."

Melissa nodded, "Okay, sounds good. What are the three questions you're going to ask?"

"The first one will be a general idea of how to find the folks who are after your kids. The second two will depend on how he answers the first one."

"That's it?" she asked, "So we could just go knock this out, and get him out of here?"

Dean nodded and drained his coffee, "We could. But he's an asshole, so it can wait another hour. Better not to deal with his crap on an empty stomach."

* * *

Crowley could hear three sets of footsteps coming from the hall. He straightened up in anticipation of the company he'd demanded in trade for information.

Dean walked in first, followed closely by Castiel. He turned to Melissa as she brought up the rear, pointing to the lines on the floor, "Stay outside of the circle. Watch your feet, don't cross that line."

"Come, come, now, Dean! Can't I get a good look at my new plaything?"

Castiel bristled at Crowley's words. The idea of the king of Hell taking control of a Lamed Vavnik was repulsive to him.

"She's fine where she is," Dean answered, "Now... Are you ready to talk?"

Crowley gave a nod not unlike a king acknowledging one of his court, the entire time watching Melissa intently.

"First question," Dean continued, "How do we find these, um, dissenters that are going after her kids?"

"They've based their operation in an abandoned shoe factory in St. Louis. I'll be happy to write down the address for you," Dean picked up a pen and a small notepad of paper from one of the shelves and passed it to Crowley, who spoke as he wrote, "You know, it's terribly impolite to keep a lady standing when there's a very accommodating place for her on my lap."

Dean took the paper and pen from him, ignoring the comment, "Next question, the spell that's drawing these dissenters to her, instead of her kids... I know you figured that part out, so you probably know more about it. How long is it gonna last?"

"Indefinitely. Anyone looking for them, will instead be drawn to her. Well, until she dies, anyway." Crowley's tone changed as he went back to addressing her directly, "I'm sure you don't want that. I could help you, you know. I'd even lower my rates."

Dean wanted to clarify part of what Crowley had said, but didn't want to waste the third question, "Okay. Last one... We know they want to restart the apocalypse. How are they planning to open the cage?"

Crowley looked Dean in the eyes this time, bored, "Ten blossoming minds not yet fully open, that means the brains of people still receiving their education. Two livers of sacred rams, and one heart of a virgin," Crowley turned back to Melissa. "But that certainly won't be yours, will it?"

"You've met her kids, Crowley. Cut the crap..." Dean looked at the paper. "I'm going to go call Sam, cut him loose, Cas."

Dean walked out and Melissa turned to follow after him.

"You showed me real kindness last night," Crowley's voice stopped her, goading her into turning around, "Sending me that glass of water... Is there anything else you might want to show me? ...Go on, sweetheart. Let me corrupt you, just a little."

Castiel didn't move except to look between the two of them.

Melissa's hands rose to the wide neckline of her knit shirt. Her fingers tucked into it, and she made a move as though she were going to pull it down. Suddenly her hands dropped from the shirt, leaving it in place, and hovered in front of her breasts, middle fingers extended as she took several steps backward toward the door, and turned around before rounding the corner.

After a confused look as she walked away, Castiel realized he was hearing Crowley's breath slowly returning to normal. He wasn't sure what to make of that, either.

"I see it now..." Crowley said, his breath hitching in his throat just a little. Castiel was disturbed to hear a hint of a moan in Crowley's voice, "Naughty little saint, isn't she?"

* * *

Sam woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, and answered it quickly, "Hey, Dean. What's up?"

"The creeps looking for the kids are running out of a factory in St Louis. I got an address off of Crowley."

"What did you give him for it?" Sam asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Nothing important, but he met Melissa, and, um, ...well it was weird." Dean started mumbling.

"Weird, how?" Sam asked, running a hand through his hair to straighten it out of his face.

"I don't know, he's a creep. You know how he is," Dean grumbled.

"So, what? Was he was hitting on her?"

"Doesn't matter. If the kids seem safe at Chase's, head to St Louis, I'll text you the address, but don't do anything until we have a plan."

"Right... Okay," Sam answered, hiding a yawn.

"How's it going with the kids?" Dean asked.

Sam would have questioned his reason for asking, but it carried no hint of teasing. He looked over at the other bed where the two children were still sleeping deeply, "They're, uh... They're great. I started reading them Harry Potter last night, and they fell asleep."

"See? I told you, you can do this. Stay safe out there."

"Yeah, you too."

Sam ended the call, and dragged himself from the bed, taking a second to look out the window. The parking lot was quiet, the Impala sat just outside, untouched, and he saw no immediate signs of danger or risk.

Moving quietly, he pulled his shaving kit from his bag, hoping to get ready before the boys woke up, but as he stood up again, he found Johnny sitting up and staring at him with big eyes, his body still unsteady with sleep.

"Hey... I gotta take a shower, and I need both of you to stay inside the room, okay?"

"Can I watch cartoons?"

"Uh, yeah. But there might be monsters outside, so that door has to stay locked."

"Monsters?"

"Yep, monsters. But as long as you stay away from the door and the window, you're perfectly safe. Got it?"

Johnny nodded, taking him very seriously as a tiny crease appeared between the boy's eyebrows.

* * *

Castiel had unchained Crowley and broken a line on the floor to release him, quickly repainting it once the demon had gone, leaving him in an empty room.

He felt strange. Something was amiss, but he couldn't place it. He understood Crowley's approaches and likely, his intentions toward Melissa to be sexual in nature, and Dean had shut him up to a point, but he didn't react as though he considered Crowley a threat. To Dean, it seemed, Crowley was a minor annoyance, and inappropriate, which was certainly true, but Castiel was uneasy.

He considered Melissa's action before she left the room. She hadn't exposed herself, even though she'd motioned as if she were, instead deciding to insult Crowley. It seemed like a game. Castiel wondered if what Melissa had done would be considered 'flirting.' The thought made him nauseous. Saints might flirt, but not with demons. Not with Crowley, surely.

He looked over the chair, making certain none of the hidden symbols had been damaged, and it would be ready for any demon they may need to place in it in the future. Everything was in order.

He shut off the light, closed the door and started down the hallway, taking his own feelings into deep consideration, as they didn't appear to be balanced. What would it matter to him if she had been flirting with Crowley? He had heard Dean speak of 'innocent flirting' before, but he wasn't sure if this fit that description, since Crowley was involved, and he didn't seem to be innocent of anything.

Castiel walked slowly, not wanting to find his friends just yet, thinking back to Dean's reaction in the kitchen... Yes, Dean seemed to think there was something happening, something likely sexual or intimate in nature, and that was what he had said he didn't want to hear about. But at the same time, he also seemed to accept whatever it was that wasn't actually happening. Dean's actions and statements had made it quite plain that he wanted to avoid the subject at all cost, but he hadn't directly discouraged it, nor had he seemed angry, only startled.

Eventually, once he was ready to associate with humans once more, Castiel found Dean and Melissa in the library, several books with references to the apocalypse on the tables.

"Ten brains, two livers, one heart... Where do you even get a sacred ram these days?" Dean asked, grabbing another two books from a shelf before sitting down to flip pages.

"You won't find it in that one, Dean," Castiel said, standing a few feet away. Of course, even without teleporting, he was quiet, and Dean jumped slightly before nodding.

"Okay. You got anyone you could ask for more details?"

"Yes. A rabbi in rural Montana. Unfortunately he doesn't have a telephone."

"Can you zap yourself there and still have enough juice to get back?"

"Not yet. Melissa, if you're willing to help me, it wouldn't take much more grace than what I already have available."

She nodded, getting up from her chair, "Sure."

Dean shrugged, pushing one of the large volumes back into place on its designated shelf, "I guess I'll get online and see if anything weird happening in St Louis can vouch for what Crowley said."

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

* * *

That morning had been surprisingly easy. The children had been highly cooperative, they'd been able to get back on the road in half the time of the previous day, and with far less stress for all three of them. He'd made good time on the road, and expected to reach Birmingham around the middle of the day, putting them well ahead of schedule.

He had grabbed the boys each a comic book at the last gas station, something his own father used to do, and the children had settled into a quiet conversation about super heroes. He listened in, finding it nice to hear something from the point of view of innocent children for once. He wondered if his father had ever listened to him and Dean in the same way.

* * *

Once they were out of earshot of Dean, Castiel turned to Melissa as they walked. "I want to be sure you understand, I appreciate your generosity. I know supplying me with new grace is no small effort for you."

"What else can I do? You're helping me keep my children safe."

He reached for her upper arm, stopping her, getting her full attention, "You could refuse. I would still help you and your children as much as I could, of course. And your children weren't in danger the first time I asked for your help, you had no obligation."

"The first time, you were basically dying, and I hadn't seen you in almost a year and a half. Of course I wouldn't turn you away." Melissa turned to walk into the room. Castiel closed the door behind them, wondering if there was more meaning behind those words. Humans were so cryptic sometimes. He preferred to be far more direct. Which reminded him of a nagging feeling in the back of his mind...

"I'm... uncomfortable. And I don't completely understand why." Castiel sat down on the bed.

"What do you mean?" Melissa moved to stand in front of him as she had done several times before.

"I believe it started last night. With Crowley..." he tilted his head. "The way he looked at you. It... upset me."

"Upset you?" she seemed surprised, as though the idea of a being as powerful and eternal as Castiel being upset seemed like the most illogical thing she'd ever heard, almost laughable.

He looked up into her eyes. Castiel was tired of the knot in his stomach that had been twisting since Crowley had set eyes on her.

His mind finally found the right word for what he was feeling. Possessiveness. And it felt good to name it.

Her humored expression slowly gave way to something closer to a questioning concern as he reached for the sides of her neck as he always had before, but this time he tangled his fingers into her hair and brought her lips to his.

He had considered doing this several times before, but she had never moved first. With Meg, and also with April, each of them had made their own desire evident, but Melissa never had. Quickly he wondered if he had made a mistake. Perhaps she didn't think of him that way, or maybe she didn't want to be kissed.

He stopped without moving too far back. "I'm sorry. I should have asked-"

He found his mouth was suddenly busy again. Evidently he didn't need to ask, or, at least, the advance had been welcome. This time it was Melissa who broke away, "I didn't think celestial beings had any interest in this sort of thing."

"Unfortunately, there is a task at hand. I'm not certain it can wait." Castiel said in a hushed tone.

"We can talk about it tonight, all of it. I promise," Melissa whispered, "Are you ready?"

Castiel nodded, and she stood upright, finding her hands had slipped down to his chest. He caught a trace of reluctance in her eyes as she moved them back up to his shoulders, only to realize he also would have preferred she kept them where they'd migrated to.

She took far longer to slip into her trance than she usually did. Castiel blamed himself for that, he had probably made it difficult for her to focus, distracting her, ambushing her with physical displays of affection.

When he saw her throat chakra begin to open this time, he felt no reason to hold back. The grace began to pour slowly, and he went straight for it, nudging her chin upward with his cheek and putting his lips against the skin of her throat. With the first few threads of grace that he accepted, he could feel a burning warmth of trust. One of his hands slipped down to grasp her thigh next to his own. He could feel and sense her root chakra near his hand becoming more active. Granted, it was the power center of that particular system in humans, but he was also aware it was closely connected with one of the purer forms of lust.

He allowed his tongue to slip out experimentally making gentle contact with her skin, and suddenly her throat chakra was opened wider, grace was spilling forth much more quickly than it had before. He wasn't sure when his hand had begun to move, but it ran up her leg, over her hip and came to rest on the bare skin over her ribs within her shirt.

Castiel came to the realization that he wasn't lacking in grace by much, and he wasn't sure how much more he'd be able to hold without damaging his vessel. He was suddenly concerned about how much effort it would take Melissa to recover from this. He pulled his mouth back from her throat, and the chakra began to close. She was swaying, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He gathered her into his arms as she went limp, lifting her as though she weighed nothing and moved her onto the bed. He straightened her hair and clothing as best he could, and watched her for a moment. He didn't feel right leaving her unconscious, but staying until she woke seemed like a waste of time given the situation.

Castiel removed his trench coat and placed it over her like a blanket, gently pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. "I'll be back soon."

* * *

In the library, and very noticeably, considering the majority of the building was underground, the lights began to flicker. Dean raised his head and looked around the large space suspiciously. That didn't just happen by itself in the bunker, not with the many fail-safes and possibly magically controlled miniature grid he assumed they were on. All he knew was that they had been there for years and had never seen an electric bill.

He waited, listening closely, hunter's instincts on edge, ready to spring should anything happen... When nothing strange seemed to be happening after a few moments, he went back to his laptop, making a mental note to mention it to Sam, and possibly dig a bit deeper into where the electricity was coming from in the first place.

He looked up once more when he heard footsteps in the hallway to find Castiel, who joined him in the library.

"Where's your coat?" Dean asked, surprised not to see it.

Castiel smiled involuntarily, considering the collar that was nestled against the throat his tongue had found just a little while ago, but before he could straighten his expression, Dean was pointing directly into his face, "No! Don't say anything. Forget I asked. I'm going to guess the lights flickering, that had to do with your, uh, grace thing?"

"Yes." Castiel said plainly.

"Okay. Good enough. So, Montana, huh?" Dean asked.

"Yes, it shouldn't take long. But Melissa is unconscious, so-"

"No. Just no. Stop talking. Go to Montana."

Castiel shook his head in confusion and turned away from where Dean sat, ignoring him. Dean didn't look up until he heard the rustle of feathers and displaced air. He took a long hit off his beer and checked his phone before turning his attention back to his laptop, looking through news articles for St. Louis and the surrounding area.

* * *

Sam pulled up to a large gate, rolling down the window of the Impala. He pressed the call button on a speaker box mounted at window height along the driveway and was surprised when a video screen came on just above it.

"Yes?" a woman's voice came back with a crackle of static.

"Uh, hi. Is this the Faulkner residence?"

"Who's this?"

"My name is Sam Winchester, Melissa sent me. I have Dylan and John Campbell with me."

"Oh good, yeah, just pull on up to the house."

The voice fizzled out with a snap of broken connection, and the large, heavy gate slowly swung open.

Sam pulled the car forward onto a driveway that twisted into the woods. He didn't see any buildings, and if it hadn't been for the gate, he would have sworn he was on yet another empty county road. It was well kept, if not exactly paved, which gave it away as being in too good of repair to be a county road.

Through the trees, a large white house came into view. He wasn't sure what he had expected, having seen Melissa's very modest home, and hearing about the worth of the Faulkner Corporation. This was certainly a large house, but not quite a mansion. It was modern without being pretentious, and stylish without being flashy.

A stocky woman in her mid 20s with short red hair came down the front steps as Sam pulled into the circular driveway. She had a pleasant face, even if it did carry a look of deep concern, and if he had to guess, she'd been crying an hour or so previously. The children were bouncing and waving before he stopped the car.

Sam got out of the car, and approached the woman.

"Sam, it's nice to meet you, I'm Leann Faulkner."

He shook her hand. "If you don't mind, there are a few things I'd like to check before I let the kids out of the car."

"Well, Melissa said you're the boss, so go right ahead."

"If you'll hold out your hand, this will only take a moment." Sam quickly produced a small flask and poured a splash of holy water into her palm, and seeing no reaction, opened the door of the car.

Dylan and Johnny ran to hug their aunt. Sam knew the excitement, he had occasionally ran to Bobby or Pastor Jim in the same way. The front door behind the woman opened, and a man with emerged with a phone to his ear, "Yeah, I'll back online in a few minutes, my nephews are here."

Sam's first instinct was to look for any resemblance in his face to Melissa, to the boys, and the sharp truth cut into him. They weren't actually related at all. Melissa's father wasn't her father, this supposed half-brother of hers was actually an adopted brother, and may not even know it himself. At the same time, they'd been raised together, the young couple clearly knew the children well, and cared for them deeply.

He watched silently as the short-lived and exuberant reunion calmed, conflicted at the thought that the children who knew Chase so well were his own nephews by blood, and had no inkling of their connection.

He thought of Bobby, however, and reminded himself of the safety and stability his own adoptive father would have provided, had John had the guts to give him and his brother over into Bobby's care, and let the jealously of the idea of a normal family slip from his mind.

* * *

With another rustling, Dean looked up. It had been an hour.

"So what's your rabbi buddy say?"

"Rabbi Levin says that there are four more ingredients, but that information has been lost to time."

"Great. So we don't know what else they need, and we can't watch for it to go missing."

Castiel nodded, and headed back down the hallway.

Dean's phone began to ring. He saw Sam's number and answered. "Yeah?"

"The kids are settling in, Chase and Leann want to compare notes on warding and stuff, I think I'll be out of here tonight. What have we got on our side of things?"

"We've got squat, aside from that address and some ingredients they'll need to open the cage. But they would need to have their pint-sized vessels first for that, right?"

"One would think," Sam replied.

"So we should be expecting them to show up here, since they'd be following Melissa's trail. I'm thinking St. Louis is a wash. Probably best if you head back for the bunker."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly set up for the road. I'll catch a couple hours at some point, probably see you tomorrow."

"Yeah okay."

Dean set the phone down on the table next to the laptop. He'd barely taken his hand off of it before it began to ring again.

666... He knew this couldn't be good. "Crowley..." he said glumly as he answered.

* * *

Castiel quietly made his way through the halls to Melissa's room, slipping inside quietly and closing the door behind him. Her sedentary form lay on the bed as he left her, still, and breathing shallowly beneath his coat. He took a seat on the edge of the bed next to her, threading his fingers through her hair.

"I didn't break the ostrich." Melissa mumbled. Castiel's eyebrows came together. The human mind never ceased to amaze and confuse him.

"The ostrich is fine, Melissa," He said, hoping to soothe her subconscious.

She woke suddenly at the sudden sound of his deep, raspy voice, "What?"

"You were dreaming."

She rubbed her face. "Where's your coat?"

Castiel put his hand on her shoulder, picking at the fabric slightly.

"Oh."

"I'm not certain what caused it, but the amount of grace you created this time was far more than I thought would be possible." Castiel said. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, I think... Did I stop letting grace out, or did you stop taking it? Because just before I passed out, there was this big sharp jolt."

Castiel looked concerned, "I pulled away from you... Was it painful?"

"Yeah." Melissa said, nodding. "Like the energy needed to get out, but it was coming out on it's own. It felt like it was cutting it's way out of me."

Shifting his gaze away, a rather guilty-looking gesture, he was sure, he shook his head, "That's not what's supposed to happen. Although, I have to admit, there's not much precedence to go off of. This, your ability to create grace, angels were never meant to, well, feed from humans, we were never meant to be cut off from Heaven in the first place. There was one occurrence in the middle ages when an angel who fell attempted to renew himself this way, but the saint barely survived. The grace you create is meant to be spent in good works, inspiring others to do good deeds, or small, ignorable miracles... Not this."

"What is this, then?" Melissa asked quietly, "If this goes against Heaven, or God, or whatever, then is it a sin?"

Castiel shrugged, "If it is, it's a sin on my part, not yours. You're only trying to help, as is your nature. I'm the one telling you how to manifest it in the first place, and taking it from you for my own devices."

"Yeah, well, great power, great responsibility. I know what I'm doing, powering you up like an atomic bomb, but I trust you to use it wisely. If you screw up with the super-juice you get from me, I'm not blameless, not knowing what you can do."

* * *

Dean shook his head. "You're not welcome here."

"Do you know what she did after you left the room, Dean? She's a tease, and she needs to be put in her place," Crowley's voice came through the phone, "All I intend to do is scare her a little, maybe ruffle a few feathers, regain my dignity, and you can have her back, safe and sound."

Dean thought it sounded like Crowley was pacing. "'Bye, now."

"Don't hang up on me, Dean. We both kno-" Dean hung up.

He tossed his phone onto the table and took his beer with him as he navigated the halls, finally knocking on Melissa's door.

Dean was sure he heard a muffled noise, and took a large step back before the door could swing wide open. Castiel was on the other side of it as it swung away, "Oh good, you're both here, what a surprise."

Castiel stared blankly. Dean was just glad everyone appeared to have clothes on, although as Melissa had Castiel's coat over most of her body, he wasn't looking too closely. He continued to speak before either of them could start making any useless denials.

"Crowley called. He said he wants to ruffle some feathers."

"I don't want Crowley to ruffle my feathers." Castiel replied flatly.

"Not yours, Cas, Melissa's."

"Melissa doesn't have feathers."

"I don't want to know how you know that. The point is, Crowley thinks he has some right to swing by and be an asshole, and Sam dropped off the kids, he's going to give the place a once-over, and head back. No point in going to St Louis until we have a solid plan. In the meantime, we should be expecting company, he's not gonna take no for an answer."

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A/N: Not completely abandoned! Yay! I did a thing. I know at least one person jumped from this site to FFN to finish the story, but I'm going to keep plugging away!
> 
> Thanks for reading! FW)

* * *

Castiel had closed the door again as Dean had wandered off for a fresh beer. Turning around to face her, he had a look of concern weighing on him, "I don't know what Crowley intends to do, but this can't be good."

"I guess I messed up, didn't I?" Melissa said, pushing the trench coat off of her and handing it back to Castiel as he came to sit on the side of the bed once again.

Castiel shrugged, then shook his head, "Accidentally making things much worse does seem to be a hereditary trait in your bloodline. But you've done nothing wrong. Anything Crowley chooses to do will be Crowley's fault alone."

Melissa said nothing for some time, simply sat staring at her knees in contemplation. Castiel considered putting the trench coat on, but instead lay it on the end of the bed. He turned around again when he felt her bump her bent knee against his back. "What is it?"

"Do you really have feathers?"

* * *

Dean decided he was not at all drunk enough for the day he was having, and went to find a bottle in one of the pantries.

Sam was taking forever dropping off Melissa's kids, Baby was out on the road without him, Crowley was stalking his sister, a term he was still getting used to, and Cas had a lead that turned into a dead end, which was the only thing Dean could think about Cas having right now. His life was usually filled with more twists and turns than a corn maze, but this was weirder, and much closer than usual.

Dean took a bottle from a shelf in the dark room he found himself in. He could just make out the label. Oh, yes, the Men of Letters had stocked away some excellent home brewed hooch.

He made his way back to the library, grabbing his phone from the table. He had a text from Crowley. No attempt to convince him, no threat, simply the words, 'This is happening.'

Dean looked at the bottle with regret. So much for that idea. Now he had no other choice than to stay sharp. He dropped into his chair.

Melissa came into the library, sitting down at the table where she had been some time before, breaking the silence he'd been so comfortable with, "Where are we at on this?"

"We're stalled," Dean replied, frowning at the screen of his laptop. "But your kids are safe, you're safe, and now we just have to figure how to clean up the original mess."

"What about the second mess?"

"What?"

"Crowley. What do you think he's going to do?"

Dean shook his head, "No idea. What did you do, anyway?"

"I, um... I flipped him off," she said quietly.

"You flipped him off?... You flipped off the king of Hell?" Dean stared at her face for a moment, then chuckled, "Well, there's your paternity test. You're definitely a Winchester."

"You said 'don't say anything,' so I didn't say anything. Not a word."

"Yeah, but body language counts with Crowley."

Melissa looked away, "Then I guess there was more to it."

"Okay, I'm almost scared to ask, but what else was there? You came out of there just a few seconds after me."

Melissa leaned on the table putting her face in her hands. "I made like I was going to flash him, and _then_ I flipped him off... Both hands, if it matters."

"Seriously?" Dean sat quietly for a moment. "You're not really getting this whole 'king of Hell,' 'he's a fucking demon,' thing, are you?"

Melissa shrugged and sat back in the chair, "Well, I can't change it now, so now what?"

"Where's Cas?"

"The Vatican archives... He's got a nearly full tank now, I guess I'm getting better at it."

Dean nodded, glad to hear Castiel was getting back to his original strength. Throughout the time he'd known the angel, he'd been weakened repeatedly, and was nowhere near the fearsome creature who'd threatened to return him to Hell, "Can I ask you something personal? There's been something I've been wondering about for a while."

"You can ask, but I won't guarantee an answer."

"Your kid, the little one, Johnny... after what our dad did to you, everything he put you through, why the hell would you name your baby after him? Be reminded of that every time you talk to your kid, every time you write his name down. What the hell would make that okay?"

Melissa took a deep breath, clearly burdened by the subject in question, "You know, even my ex husband didn't know my birth father put those marks on me... just Castiel. I never told my dad, either, I just always kept them covered. When I was pregnant, the second time, I mean, that's when shit started to go sideways with my ex, and I did everything I could to keep Dylan safe. Around the same time, weird things started happening in the house we lived in, and I got scared."

She shook her head before she continued. "He had told me, John, I mean, after he let me go, to go home, fix my life, and never call him again, not for anything. But he had known things, things I hadn't told him, like he'd know what soccer team I was on, show up out of nowhere at a dance recital, so I knew he was keeping tabs on me when he was still in contact," Melissa shifted in her chair, "I thought that, if whatever weird stuff was happening got bad, like, really bad," she started to choke up, "If I died, that he would at least come to protect my kids. So I named Johnny after him, hoping if I wasn't around it might tug a heartstring, get him to help them, and I guess it was out of manipulation... but I don't feel guilty about it, either."

Dean said nothing, only nodded.

"You think I'm a bitch? For trying to use somebody's feelings as a safety net and naming my kid after a monster?" Melissa asked, looking up.

"No." Dean answered, turning his attention back to his laptop for a moment, "No, I think you're strong. And while that can get you into some tough spots, I don't know many people who can go through all of that and still feel sorry for a chained up demon."

Dean stood up and pushed in his chair, pressing one more button on the laptop, and walked over to where Melissa was sitting, "C'mon, at this rate your Winchester D.N.A. is going to get you killed before you have a chance at another wedding, so we'll just have to get this out of the way now."

Sister Christian by Night Ranger was coming weakly from the built-in speakers as Dean pretended to drag her out of the chair, and pulled her into a slow dance.

"You think Crowley's going to kill me?"

Dean shrugged. "He might, but he said he'd give you back safe and sound."

"Safe and sound, but maybe dead?"

"Yeah, well, death is a funny thing in this family. Now quit talking over the music."

Dean spun Melissa around, trying hard to avoid the scars on her back, not knowing what her reaction would be.

As the song drew to an end, Dean pulled her into a hug, "I think I'm falling in brotherly love with you."

"Same here," Melissa said, slightly muffled, "But as that's going to take a sex change, you'll have to start calling me 'Ralph.'"

Dean was still chuckling when a quick rush of wind announced Castiel's abrupt return. "Hey, Cas. You cutting in?" Dean asked as he stepped back.

"Why is Crowley outside?" Castiel asked, ignoring Dean's question and pointing to the door at the top of the stairs in the war room.

"What, already?" Dean said, letting go of Melissa and quickly heading up the stairs, "Stay here, and don't follow me! I'll see what I can do to get rid of him."

* * *

Dean slipped out of the door of the bunker closing it securely behind him as thought it would bolster the warding, finding Crowley about 10 feet away.

"We just let you go, and here you are, back again. I'm starting think you like being chained up in my dungeon," Dean said, attempting to smirk.

"Nice try. Where's the girl?" Crowley said, glancing at the door.

"Cas took her to the mall for a new dress."

"And he'll look smashing, I'm sure. But if they've left," Crowley said, stepping far too close, and pacing out his words, "Why is her scent on your shirt so strong?"

Crowley tapped the back of his hand firmly against Dean's chest, and lifted his closed fist close to his face as he stepped away again. "There it is. Fresh cut apples. Couldn't place it, as far away as she was standing in the dungeon."

"You figured it out, didn't you?" Dean asked, not sure, but not wanting to give it away. He put his hands in his pockets.

"She's one of the thirty-six, no question about it, she's got the big L.V. card, but is she the goody-two-shoes she seems to be? That's what's plaguing me."

"So you came to give her a Darth Vader speech?"

Crowley shook his head. "Don't be stupid. If she turned to the dark side, she would hold no longer hold my attention."

"I still don't get why you're here," Dean replied impudently, "A saint flipped you the bird, who cares? Seems like you have a crush, so I'd tell you to grow a pair and ask her out, but it's you, so, no. It can't be that hard to find yourself another saint, unless you want to admit it's not what she is, but who she is..."

Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Something about the look in Crowley's eyes struck him as undeterred. The prospect of tracking down and hassling some other saint didn't even seem like an option. Crowley's focus was bull's eyed on one particular person, and he showed no indication of motive, which threw Dean off even further. Surely the occasional truce with the Winchesters would be worth letting this one alone, but his motive seemed weak. Even though he'd admitted the question was plaguing him.

The entire concept felt weak. Given Crowley's disdain for any average human, and the whole saint thing aside, all Crowley would have noticed about her, she was pretty average, he should have been easily put off his current course.

Dean turned around and went back inside.

* * *


End file.
